


Brokenness is an Art Form (I Want to Love You)

by freakofnature



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aromantic Character, Emotional Abuse, First Kiss, First Time, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Harm, Soulmate AU, Suicide Attempt, Underage Handjob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:19:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakofnature/pseuds/freakofnature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should just be <i>Tetsurou</i>. One name. One name in black ink on his inner wrist. One name that gives away that he has a soulmate waiting for him in the world.<br/><i>Shouyou</i>.<br/>Did Fate make a mistake? They had to. Kenma didn't need one soulmate, let alone two.<br/>He doesnt want it.<br/>He doesnt need <i>Shouyou</i>.<br/>He doesn't need <i>Tetsurou</i>.<br/>He doesn't need <i>anyone</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Your Heart is Far Too Young to Realize

**Author's Note:**

> Well! This was originally supposed to be from the 2k15 Haikyuu Au Week, but as you can see we are nowhere near that date anymore. 
> 
> I never really wanted to post this until it was done, but i stumbled upon it on my google docs and read it and i was angry that i never finished it b/c i thought it was a nice plot/idea i had going on. 
> 
> Many thanks to [trashwriter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashwriter), my beta and a wonderful person who puts up with a lot of my shit. 
> 
> Fic title taken from the song [Neptune ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AiXsPp81qSQ)by Sleeping At Last
> 
> Chapter 1 title taken from [Light ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SNoMeKCn0x4)by Sleeping At Last
> 
> Warning for dark themes that will come up in this fic, though they will be listed as the chapters come out just in case!

_Tetsurou_

Kenma is four years old the first time his mother reads the name out to him.

 _Tetsurou_.

“Why?” he asks, rubbing a thumb over the mark--the name. He doesnt understand what it means.

“It’s your soulmate,” his mother explains. It doesnt make his understanding any better, “Fate gives everyone someone special to be with forever.”

Forever sounds scary. If this _soulmate_ was to be his forever...he didn't want them.

Who was Fate and why did they put a name on his wrist?

Why?

 _Tetsurou_. Kenma tries to speak the name back to her, but stumbles over the pronunciation. Her gentle smile eases his embarrassment, but does nothing to quell the hot flush on his cheeks.

He didn't want this soulmate. He couldn't even say their name.

Kenma rubs at the mark again, “Can it go away?” He doesn't want it.

“No, hunny. It’s your soulmates name. It’s there forever.”

Forever.

He doesn't like that word.

“Okay,” he nods his head, frowning when black hair fell into his face, “Can I cover it?”

An odd look crosses his mother’s face, but he can’t figure out what it is. A weird sort of sadness.

“Sure, Kenma. We can cover it.”

He smiles. At least he wont have to see it.

He doesn't want his soulmate.

* * *

 

It’s no surprise that Kenma doesn't notice the new name on his wrist until one day at school one of the kids pull at the thick bracelet around his wrist.  

“Why do you have this on your wrist all the time!?” they ask as they tug on the black band. Kenma moves to pull his hand back, but the action only makes the bracelet slide off his thin wrists, “Hey, hey, answer my question!”

Kenma just stares at them, fingers wrapping around his wrist. He’s 9 years old and doesn't want to look at it. It’s just a reminder of how Fate touches everyone.

How he couldn't escape having a soulmate.

How he was branded.

_Testsurou. Tetsurou._

He hates it.

“Give it back…” he mumbles, caught between wanting to reach out and grab and and keeping his marked wrist covered, “give it back, it’s not...it’s not yours.”

“It is now!” the brat laughs at him, “What’s on your wrist? Is it the name of your _soulmate_?” more laughter, “ _You_ have a soulmate? You don’t even talk to people, why would you need a soulmate?” Kenma is still trying to figure that one out himself, honestly.

“Please...give my bracelet back,” Kenma tries again,  giving up on hiding his mark and reaching forward with his unbranded arm. Surprisingly he snags the stolen item back with ease.

“What’s wrong with your wrist?” his classmate asks, eyes wide as he stares at the name on the inside of Kenma’s wrist. Does the boy _not_ have a soulmate? Kenma frowns and looks down.

 _Tetsurou_. That’s normal.

 _Shouyou_. That...that is _not_ normal. That name shouldn't be there.

It should just be _Tetsurou_. One name. _One_ name in black ink on his inner wrist. One name that gives away that he has a soulmate waiting for him in the world.

_Shouyou._

It would be different if it was in grey. It would be different if the name gave away a platonic soulmate. But it’s not grey, it’s not his platonic soulmate.

Did Fate make a mistake? They had to. Kenma didn't need _one_ soulmate, let alone _two_.

He doesn't want it.

He doesn't need _Shouyou_.

“Freak!” the boy shouts, backing away, “No one has _two_ love-mates. You’re a freak!”

He doesn't need _Tetsurou_.

After that his classmate backs off and leaves him alone and Kenma puts the bracelet back on his wrist, hugging his wrist tight to his chest.

He doesn't need anyone.

* * *

 

“Hi! I just moved in next door! My name is Kuroo--Kuroo Tetsurou. What’s yours?”

He slams the door.

His mother yells.

He doesn’t see the boy for three whole days.

Kenma doesn’t feel bad about it, there is no reason to. He doesn’t want a soulmate. He saw no point to it. Even at the proud age of 10 years old, he knows what he wanted in life. He wanted to be a professional video game player; he wanted to have all the games he could ever want. He’s not going to go to college because who’d want to study useless things when they could be looking up strategies for gaming?

And since his life was going to be so busy with gaming, he didn’t need a soulmate.

Soulmates were dumb.

Kuroo _Tetsurou_ was dumb.

With his dumb smile and his dumb face and those dumb copper colored eyes and the _stupid_ bedhead the boy had.

His soulmate was dumb, and he wanted nothing to do with him.

* * *

 

Three days.

It took three days for his mother to force him to go next door and apologize to _Tetsurou_ \--to his soulmate.

Reaching out with one small, thin finger, Kenma rocks up onto his toes and rings the doorbell before he can change his mind, interlocking his fingers together, nerves eating at him with every passing second.

Instead of the rowdy copper eyed boy  Kenma had been expecting, he ends up getting what appears to be _Tetsurou’s_ mother. They look similar, the same eye color, the same knowing tilt to their smiles.

It unnerves him.

“Oh! Hello, are you the young boy from next door?” Kenma fiddles with his thumbs as he nods, feeling rather dumb. He just wanted to say sorry to Tetsurou and leave. pretend that they never saw each other.  “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Kuroo Miki, and what would your name be?”

She’s soft spoken where Tetsurou is not; at least that’s the impression Kenma gets from his brief exchanges with them. Tetsurou seems brash and loud, like he doesn't think before he speaks. his mother is much gentler, much more mature.

Kenma hopes that it comes with age.

“Kozume…” he says softly, “Kozume Kenma.”

He sees those honey eyes widen for the briefest of seconds, and Kenma tenses, half expecting her to hug him.

Kenma doesn't want to be a soulmate. He just wanted to be left alone. He didn't want to meet Tetstrou.

He wasn't ready.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he mumbles lamely into the silence that stretched around him. His voice seems to startle Kuroo-san into motion, and she opens her arms wide, motioning for him to come inside.

“Come in, come in! I’m sure Tetsurou will be pleased that you came over! He wanted to play with you the other day but came back saying you were busy.”

“I slammed the door in his face,” Kenma confessed, not stepping a single inch forward. He didn't want to go inside. He just wanted to get this over with and go home, “I came over to say sorry for that.”

“Kenma!” there was a thud and Kenma looked up to see Kuroo standing on the stairs a grin on his face, “Kenma you came!”

He wanted to leave now.

Instead he gives a slight bow, “Kuroo Tetsurou, I apologize for shutting the door in your face a couple of days back, it was wrong of me.”

Can he go home and play video games now?

“Oh? Yeah! That’s okay! I forgive you!” Kenma straightens up to see Tetsurou beaming at him. It hurts. It’s too bright.

He doesn't want it.

Kenma slides his gaze over to Kuroo-san, bowing more respectfully at her, “That is all I came here to do, if you’ll excuse me…”

“Kenma?” Tetsurou’s voice sounds again and it resonates with a part of Kenma’s heart that he was quite keen to _ignore_ , “I have video games up in my room. If you want I can bring them over next time so we can play in your room?”

Kenma stares at the older boy with a wary look in his eyes.

They were soulmates.

He wasn't going to get away from this.

“Okay.”

He let’s Tetsurou’s answering shout of happiness--coupled with his mother’s chastising--follow him home, unaware of the small smile on his lips.

 


	2. I've Fallen in Love with the Middle Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I should have told you when we first met, it was obvious...but I didn't want to scare you--hey dummy are you listening?”  
> Shouyou frowns and turns his head to snap back at his friend, but the words die on his lips.  
> On Tobio’s chest is the neat and elegant characters for his _name_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in love with this au, about as much as i love 'what would you do' (which im ignoring due to still writers block on HOW i want to continue and have certain things play out.) i hope you honestly have as fun as i do reading this as i do! It's gonna get a lil sad from here on out, but nothing heavy like wwyd or any of my other oneshot fics. 
> 
> EDIT: i thought i had posted the edited chapter but i didnt and so i had to go and post that. nothing really changed plot wise, just different word choice! Also fixed the formatting/added in my italics b/c they r my favorite thing to use ever.
> 
> Title taken from [Mercury](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJsF7sHpaPs) by Sleeping At Last

Shouyou is four years old when he comes to the conclusion that there is something on his hands that won’t come off no matter how much he scrubs his hands when he washes them.

It’s weird and he doesn't like it.

Shouyou is four years old when his mother finds him sitting on the kitchen floor, scrubbing his hand raw with a rough cleaning sponge.

“What are you doing?” Shouyou looks up at his mother’s shocked gasp, pausing in his hand scrubbing.

“It won’t come off,” he states simply, a frown on his face.

Looking back down at his hand, Shouyou sees that he was so focused on getting the dirt off his palm that he failed to notice that the skin around the dirt had turned a bright red.

The moment he sees the red, his palm starts to sting.

“Mom!” he drops the sponge and holds out his hand, “It hurts! It hurts! Mama make it stop!”

Tears spring to his eyes and Shouyou tries to be a big boy--Daddy told him big boys don’t cry--but his palm _hurts_ and it’s _red_ and doesn't red mean blood? Blood wasn't good. His mama had told him that blood wasn't good at all.

“Oh, Shouyou…” his mother crouches down next to him and gently takes his red hand--is it getting redder by the second?--before letting it go and standing up. Shouyou feels the first tears fall from his eyes.

His palm is red, but the dirt is still _there_.

“Get up, sweetie, let’s go make your hand feel better, okay?”

His mother speaks in soft tones with kind words, and Shouyou wipes at his eyes with his non-red hand. He doesn't want his dad to see his puffy eyes. Big boys don't cry, and with a sister in mom’s tummy Shouyou needs to be extra strong so his baby sister can be safe with him.

So Shouyou nods and gets up, following after his mother to the bathroom where she cleans his hands with her soft non-red fingers.

“What were you trying to do?” she asks him as she squeezes clear liquid onto her hand.

Shouyou can't read what it says, but it smells a bit like the hospital did when he got to see the baby in his mom’s tummy, so he figures it has to be good for him. Hospitals were to help people, or so mom had told him.

“I have dirt on my hand,” he whines, half because he can still see it there and half because his palm stings worse with every passing second.

His mother only frowns at him before she is spreading the good goo on his his red palm. It stings more at first, but before Shouyou can pull his hand back the sting goes away and is replaced with a soothing tingle.

Much better than the angry stinging.

“Are you talking about these?” her fingers are soft as they rub against the dirt in the middle of his palm.

Shouyou nods, happy that his mom can see it too.

“This…” his mother’s lips pull into a smile, “Shouyou, these are _names_ , not dirt.”

That makes no sense. Confused, Shouyou pulls his hand away slowly, staring at the ‘names’--he doesn't believe his mother, not yet--in the middle of his palm.

“Why?” he asks, thrusting his hand back at her, “Why are they there? I don't like it.”

His mother is still smiling at him, and Shouyou can't help but smile back at her because his mother’s smiles are the best. Doesn’t mean he isn't still confused.

“The names are there because you are meant to find those people.”

“Why?”

“They are to be with you for the rest of your life. Soulmates, Shouyou. They are the names of your soulmates.”

Shouyou stares at his hand, a frown forming on his lips, “Who are they?”

His mother points at the top name, careful of the raw skin of her son’s palm, “That one says Tetsurou--”

Shouyou pulls his hand back to stare at the name, lips forming over the new word--new name, “Te...tsu...rou,” he sounds out, repeating his mother.

“Correct!” She smiles at him, “the name under that is _Kenma_.”

Shouyou repeats the name much like he did the first time, unsure of what they mean, just that they were a part of him.

 _Tetsurou_.

 _Kenma_.

* * *

 

In the middle of his third year of elementary school, a new student joins Shouyou’s class. He stands next to the teacher with a deep frown and dark eyes looking anywhere but at the students in front of him.

“Today we have a new student joining us--” His teacher starts off saying, but the new boy jerks his chin forward and up, meeting the class’s curious stares head on and interrupts before the teacher can get much farther

“I’m Kageyama Tobio,” He grumbles out, “Nice to meet you.”

He’s tall and scary and Shouyou wants to be his friend.

* * *

 

It takes him several days before Shouyou can work up the nerve to approach the scary new student--to approach Kageyama.

“Hi!” he smiles at the frowning--does he always frown?--boy, hovering a bit away from his desk. He doesn’t know how to go about this. Does he say his name first? Does he wait for Kageyama to introduce himself? Wait didn't that already happen on his first day? Wouldn't it be a bit odd for Kageyama to say his name _again_?

“What are you doing?” Shouyou jolts out of his thoughts and gives a small smile, taking in the less intense frown on Kageyama’s face. Upon closer inspection, Shouyou can see that his dark eyes aren't _brown_ but a nice deep blue.

It reminds him of the night sky.

“Oh, um…” His name, he just needs to say his name. That’s all. He can do that, “I don't think i ever said hello, so…” _His name_ , “My name is Hinata Shouyou, it’s nice to meet you.”

Shouyou gives a small bow, relief flooding through him because _thank god_ he didn't mess up too much.

There is no ‘nice to meet you’ that greets him back and so with a small frown, Shouyou straightens up to see Kageyama staring at him.

He isn't blinking.

Shouyou shuffles his feet. Did he go and do something wrong?

“Hinata...Shouyou,” Kageyama repeats slowly, lips pulling down into a deeper scowl than usual, “That’s your name?”

Confused, Shouyou just nods his head, not sure what Kageyama was getting at.

Kageyama stares at him a bit longer before nodding his own head, “Nice to meet you,”  he returns with a lesser frown and Shouyou counts that as a victory.

* * *

 

Shouyou finds joy in talking to the tall and grumpy new addition to his class. Tobio is awkward and blunt and doesn't express his emotions well unless it’s anger, but Shouyou doesn't mind. At first it was a shock--being called dumb and an idiot made him feel gross inside, but now he returns Tobio’s mostly fond insults with bright smiles and sometimes even a playful joke of his own here and there.

By the time they enter their fourth year of elementary school, not even a year later, they are inseparable. Shouyou finds solace in Tobio’s company, finds happiness in their close friendship. It’s _easy_ , being with Tobio. It had always been easy. Even when Shouyou was uncomfortable, he still wanted to get to know Tobio.

On his tenth birthday, Shouyou wishes--selfishly--for Tobio to be his soulmate instead.

* * *

 

Two weeks later his wish comes true.

“Oi, Hinata, I need to show you something,” Tobio approaches him one day during lunch, brows drawn down into a deep scowl.

“What?” Shouyou stops mid-chew to stare at his friend--his _best_ friend, “Why? What’s wrong?”

Tobio just shakes his head, frowning deeply. To others it must look scary, but Shouyou just wants to smooth away the deep, worry lines on his friend’s face until Tobio was giving that barely there smile he enjoyed seeing so much, “Come with me.”

Shouyou barely has time to put his chopsticks down before Tobio is grabbing his hand and tugging him out of the classroom.

“What are you doing?” Shouyou tries to pull his hand back, but Tobio just tightens his grip and pulls him along, ignoring how Shouyou is babbling how he needs to _let go_ , not paying any attention to the other students that are staring at them in mild interest.

It is only when they reach the bathrooms that Tobio let go of Shouyou’s wrist.

Automatically Shouyou rubs at the skin, a frown on his face, “Tobio, what...what are you doing?”

Shouyou doesn't get an answer, just a hard stare before Tobio is pulling up his shirt.

Shouyou automatically looks away.

One evening, while watching one of his mother’s weekly dramas, his father had told him that staring at shirtless guys was something only _homosexual_ men did. Shouyou wasn't quite sure what that meant, but his father had spat out _homosexual_ like it was foul, so Shouyou made a point to never even look at shirtless men.

What if it turned him _homosexual_?

“Hinata _look_ ,” Tobio’s voice is hard and worried and Shouyou doesn't know what to do because he wants to look--what is Tobio showing him?--but his father...he doesn't want to be _homosexual_ , “I should have told you when we first met, it was obvious...but I didn't want to scare you--hey dummy are you even listening?”

Shouyou frowns and turns his head to snap back at his friend, but the words die on his lips.

On Tobio’s chest is the neat and elegant characters for his _name_. Shouyou stares at it a uncomprehendingly before glancing down at his palm.

Tobio’s name isn't there.

“Are we...soulmates?” Confused. He’s so confused, so he doesn’t know what do think.

But Tobio just scowls and nods, “Yeah. I...you are my soulmate--”

Shouyou shoves his hand in Tobio’s face and frowns harder, “Your name isn't here, Tobio why isn't your name on my palm? Is there something _wrong_? Why is it a different color? It’s faded, but I’m not dead?”

He doesn't want to leave Tobio all alone. He would gladly give up both of his soulmates for a life with Tobio.

Tobio made him happy.

 _Tetsurou_ and _Kenma_ had already found each other, and don’t need him.

Tobio _needs_ him.

“I wasn't done,” Tobio grumbles and let’s his shirt fall back down, smoothing it out over his chest, “My mom said it’s a different color because I’m not meant to fall in love with you.”

 _Love-mates_. Tobio isn’t his love-mate.

“She called it something like _platonic_ soulmates,” Tobio shrugs, “I don't get it, but i wanted you to know.”

Shouyou nods and stares at his hand some more, hoping that maybe he had just overlooked Tobio’s name. Maybe it would just appear now that he knew Tobio was his _platonic_ soulmate.

It didnt. There are just two names, ink dark against the pale skin of his palm. The same as always.

“Okay,” he said after a while, looking up with a smile, “I trust you Tobio-chan! Thanks for telling me!” Tobio just nods at him and Shouyou grins at the faint blush that covers his friend’s cheeks, “Can we finish eating now?”

Dark blue eyes stare at him for a moment before Tobio sighs, “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

All the way back to the classroom Shouyou is bouncing on his toes because now there’s proof that _he belongs to Tobio._

 

 


	3. This is a Feeling I've Never Felt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been ten years since he met Tetsurou. Ten years of playing games together. Three years of playing volleyball together. And now Tetsurou was going away to Todai. He wasn't ready.
> 
> "What if I meet Shouyou?”
> 
> Kenma wasn’t ready for that either.
> 
> It would change everything. It would change his entire world. It had changed once before--the moment he told Tetsurou that they could play video games.
> 
> It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t scared. Of Tetsurou going to college, of his best friend leaving him.
> 
> What if he met Shouyou? Would Tetsurou leave Kenma?
> 
> He didn’t want to learn the answer to that. The thought was painful--heartbreaking. Tetsurou was his, not Shouyou’s. He didn’t care that Shouyou was their other soulmate. Tetsurou was his and his alone. He didn’t need Shouyou. he didn’t want Shouyou.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi welcome to hell //lights flicker on and off
> 
> no but honestly this chapter starts off some sad things, and tbh its gonna get sadder before it gets happier but OMG DUDE CUTE KUROKENS R SO CUTE AM I RIGHT? YEAH. OKAY. 
> 
> warning for this chapter: underage sex stuff (kuroo is like 16 and kenma is 15 sO totally underage okay y ess) 
> 
> enjoy the chapter? its half unbeta'd b/c Te is busy and im impatient as all hell. 
> 
> Chapter title taken by [All About Us](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3QcEQbWtkME) by He is We
> 
> If you want to scream @ me, u may scream on [tumblr ](http://www.jwritesangst.tumblr.com)OR [twitter](https://twitter.com/toorumutsukii)(or both, both is good)

Kenma is 13 when realizes he’s in love with his best friend.

“Hey Kenma?” Tetsurou is being...well  _ himself _ \--currently playing Kenma’s old 3DS XL, toes pressed against the wall and head hanging off the side of the bed. It’s all very...Tetsurou-like.

Kenma on the other hand has tucked himself far away from the danger that is Tetsurou’s  _ feet _ , eyes trained on the Nintendo game in front of him, “What?” he answers without missing a beat, fingers smashing into buttons for a few more seconds. 

Tetsurou doesn’t answer him. 

Kenma sighs and pauses his game, shutting the 3DS and tossing it to the side of the bed, “Tetsurou…” he pokes at his best friend, smothering a smile when the other boy tries to shy away from his touch. 

“...nothing. I just got stuck on this level. I figured it out.” 

Kenma frowns at a spot on Tetsurou’s chest, but says nothing about the lie, just accepts it for what it is--Tetsurou’s way of saying he isn't ready to talk about it.

“Okay.”  Kenma returns to his game, ignoring how the bed shakes as Tetsurou pulls himself back up onto the bed, “What--” his sentence is cut off when tan arms wrap around his middle, pulling him down. Kenma can only let out a yelp as he falls, huffing loudly when his body lands on top of his friend’s.

“You okay?” at least Tetsurou cares enough to make sure he isn't hurt.

Kenma shrugs, squirming slightly  in the too tight grip, “Are you?” It’s phrased as a question, but Kenma knows that  _ Tetsurou _ is aware that he meant it as anything but. Kenma is good at reading people. He knows something is eating at his friend, but if Tetsurou really doesn’t want to talk about it, he’s going to keep his mouth shut. 

Tetsurou will come to him if he needs to. Probably.

Silence settles around Kenna's room and soon the only noise to be heard is the soft sound of their mingled breathing. Kenma shifts in Tetsurou’s grip, wanting nothing more than for his friend to let him  _ go _ , but he knows that his wish isn’t going to be granted for some time.

He feels Tetsurou’s breath hitch before his best friend is burying his face in the crook of Kenma’s neck. 

Kenma hates this.

He hates how the bond between Tetsurou and Shouyou does this to his best friend. 

It’s happened before--it’s happened too many times for Kenma to keep track of. 

The first time still seems like the scariest. They’d been playing video games--much like today--when Tetsurou had just dropped the remote and balled his hands into fists, his breath coming out in hard pants. As if they had been practicing. Kenma remembers wanting to do anything to calm his friend down, to tell jokes, to talk, to do  _ something _ . 

Kenma hating himself more.

Tetsurou had asked him, the words ground out between clenched teeth, if he could hug Kenma. And while Kenma had wanted nothing more than to  _ not _ do that, he’d understood that it might be one of the few things he could do for his friend of three years. For his  _ soulmate _ . 

The word still left a bitter taste on his tongue. 

Kenma had agreed, crawling over to sit in Tetsurou’s lap, letting long arms wrap around his middle, crushing them chest to chest with surprising strength. He had listened to the choked sobs, feel the clenching of Tetsurou’s arms around his stomach.  _ Shouyou _ , he’d kept hearing. His second soulmate’s name falling from Tetsurou’s lips over and over again.

He’d hated it. 

He’d hated  _ Shouyou _ . 

When it was all over, Tetsurou had just sighed against Kenma’s neck, mumbling things Kenma had never caught--things Tetsurou didn’t repeat to him--with arms still wrapped around his body. Kenma remembers asking what happened, palms flat against Tetsurou’s chest as he looked up at his best friend. 

He  _ hates _ Shouyou.

A ball of lead--that’s what Tetsurou had described it as. A tightly coiled ball of barbed wire and lead that would settle in his gut and stay there. He just wants to make Tetsurou feel better. 

He hates the way Tetsurou is shuddering against him. He hates that he still can’t help his best friend. 

The thought to kiss Tetsurou’s pain away pops into Kenma’s head, but he dismisses it with a mental frown. Kissing Tetsurou just sounded so…  

_ Dirty _ . 

Instead Kenma just nuzzles his nose into his friend’s shoulder, “You’re okay,” he mutters against the skin. 

“It hurts,” is all Tetsurou can say in reply, arms tightening around Kenma’s middle, “It’s Shouyou. They’re  _ hurting _ .” 

Kenma wiggles in his friend’s grip a bit, pulling his arm free so that he can press his fingers to the ink that hides just under the waistband of Tetsurou’s sweats, “We’re still young,” Kenma says, repeating the words his parents have told him, “We don’t even know where to start looking.” 

Tetsurou just crushes Kenma against him harder. Kenma wants to pry himself away. It’s awkward--like this. His arm is cramping from it’s odd, bent angle, and Tetsurou’s arms locked around him make it hard to breathe.

But he stays silent, fingers sporadically moving over a small patch of fabric that hides Tetsurou’s marks, toes wiggling against slightly thicker and  _ much _ hairier calf muscles. 

“Better.” Tetsurou says after a while. His arms loosen around Kenma’s middle and for the first time in a half hour, Kenma can  _ breathe _ , “They feel better, I’m okay.” 

Kenma spreads his legs out as he sits up so that he ends up straddling his best friend’s stomach, “You sure?” he asks. His fingers itch to press * against the black that Tetsurou has against his hip, but settles for tugging off one of his bracelets and rubbing the patches of dark ink against his own skin. 

After a few seconds, warm fingers pull Kenma’s away, brushing against the soft skin of Kenma’s inner wrist. With wide gold eyes, Kenma watches as his best friend presses a cool kiss against the names on Kenma’s skin, “Much better!” Tetsurou smiles after the kiss, eyes show no trace of his ever having been upset in the first place, “Thanks, Kenma!” 

Kenma feels his heart thud hard in his chest.

“Whatever.” 

Is this what love feels like?

* * *

 

Kenma can say for sure that going through puberty  _ sucks _ . Everything is weird. His body doesn't listen to him like it used to--did it ever really listen or was he just naive?--and he keeps having these  _ urges _ . 

It doesn't help that his mother is trying to keep him away from Tetsurou. 

“Mom,” he lets out his second whine of the day--a new record, honestly--staring out the window, “Why can’t I see Tetsurou. It isn't as if we’ll do anything. He’s my best friend!  _ Mom _ .” 

He hopes that Tetsurou is much better at his house, but knows that between his single mom and a baby sister of only six years old, that the chances of that being true are slim. 

Why is he not allowed to see his best friend? Why can't they play video games in his room? Why does his dad or mom have to watch them? Why can't they just be  _ alone _ ?

There is a heavy sigh from the kitchen, and Kenma fights a smile because  _ maybe he’s made his mom cave _ . Instead his mother pads out of the kitchen and seats herself in the chair next to his. 

“Kenma,” She starts, her voice patient and weary. Kenma doesn't like this tone and thinks of various ways of how he can run out of the house and meet up with Tetsurou. 

...There’s a park in the neighborhood, maybe they could hang out there?

“Kenma, are you paying attention?” His mother’s tone turns hard, and Kenma blinks away his ideas of running away to stare at her, trying his hardest to make his eyes seem as bored as humanly possible.

Another hard sigh. Does sighing run in the family?

“Kenma, you have to understand that both you and Tetsurou-kun are going through times in your lives that…” Kenma really wants her to stop, “Your body has been going through changes these past couple of years, and I’m sure Tetsurou-kun has the same changes. His mother and I just think it would be best if you spent some time apart while your bodies are in the middle of all these changes.” 

Kenma doesn't understand. He’s 14, Tetsurou is 15. They’re changing, sure, but that doesn't mean they can't hang out alone. What does his mother assume they’re going to do?

“I...I don't understand. We can still hang out with each other, right? Why are you keeping us apart. What would we even  _ do _ ?” All they ever did was play video games. On occasion homework, when Tetsurou could get Kenma to do it. Other times Kenma was too busy staring at Tetsurou, often wondering why he was soulmates with such an odd and dorky person. 

He doesn't mind it as much though. 

He  _ does _ mind the pain their other soulmate puts Tetsurou through. Do they assume that Tetsurou can't feel it? Are they lonely? Why don't they look for  _ them _ ? 

Kenma isn't sure if they’re going to be the best person if Tetsurou is going to keep getting hurt by them. 

His mother sighs again, muttering under her breath. He could have caught the words if he’d wanted to, but in the end he opts to not pay attention. His mother isn't talking to  _ him _ , why would it matter what she’d said? 

“Puberty, Kenma.” her voice is tight, lips pulled down. As if she doesn't want to talk about this. 

That makes two of them. 

“What of it?” His mother stares at him. Kenma carefully slides his gaze away, “It's...it’s not like we’re going to do anything.” 

“Kenma.”

“I won’t let him do that.” 

His mother takes his hands. Kenma stares at them, finds that his fingers are shaking, “I won’t.” 

“Kenma, it’s okay, calm down.” Her voice is softer, patient like it always is with him. Kenma takes it in, letting it wash over him. 

They sit in silence until Kenma pulls his fingers from his mother’s grip. 

“I’m going to Tetsurou’s.” He starts, ignoring how his hands are  _ still _ shaking. What is wrong with him? 

He needs Tetsurou. He was older, he would know what to do.

“Kenma, I said--”

The end of his mother’s statement is cut off by him closing the door. As  _ if _ he was going to listen to his mother spout weird things. 

Him and Tetsurou.  _ Doing things _ . That would never happen. 

Kenma wouldn't let it.

* * *

 

He is 15 years old when he first has one of  _ those _ dreams. About Tetsurou of course. As if he would want it any other way. 

It’s odd, being soulmates with his best friend. It’s weird having these  _ feelings _ . They would appear out of nowhere at the most inconvenient of times--like when Tetsurou is tickling him, or they are fighting over which game to play. He doesnt like the thought of falling in love with his best friend, but the feelings are nice. He craves them, but he doesn’t know how to satisfy them. Is it because they’re too young to do anything about it?

Kenma can't remember the details of the dream. They aren’t  important. What is important is that it was  _ that _ kind of dream. Tetsurou had told him about them, and what they would do to his body--not that Kenma had wanted to hear any of it. 

Kenma finds he doesn't like it. Maybe he would have. In the privacy of his own room.  _ Alone _ . 

Not...not like this. Not with his body pressed up against Tetsurou’s. Not with Tetsurou’s leg between his thighs. 

Not with Tetsurou staring at him with wide--but calm--eyes.

“Tetsu--I!” Kenma moves to pull away but the movement of his hips sends hot jolts up his body and it feels so  _ good _ . 

Tetsurou smiles at him, big and bright, before his soft laughter fills the room, “Morning, Kenma. Need help?” 

Help? Help with-- _ no _ . 

He shakes his head, breathing deeply through his nose as he disentangles himself from Tetsurou’s body, “No...no. I’ll…” 

“I can help you, you know.” Tetsurou’s voice is rough with sleep, words slightly slurred together. Kenma moves to get out of bed, but Tetsurou stops him with a gentle touch to his hip. 

Immediately Kenma’s body tenses and his face flushes bright red. 

Tetsurou is  _ too close _ . 

“How? No--what?  _ Why _ would you even want to help me?” Kenma stutters and he hates it but he also can’t meet Tetsurou’s eyes so he thinks that just makes it worse. 

Does he even want help? No... _ maybe _ ?

“Because we’re soulmates!” Kenma’s eyes snap back to  search Tetsurou’s face, and finds that his friend’s cheeks look  about as red as Kenma’s feel. It makes him feel a bit better about this entire situation. 

At least Tetsurou is nervous too.

It isn’t like Kenma had never had this happen to him before--he is well used to the late nights in bed, eyes closed as he fists his erect penis. He’s well used to smothering his moans with his free palm as his body tenses and he comes in his boxers. 

He’s  _ aware _ of how it all goes down. He just doesn’t know if he wants Tetsurou to do those same things  _ to him _ . 

Unlike Kenma’s smooth hands, Tetsurou’s hands are rough from spiking volleyballs after school. The thought of those calloused fingers grazing along the side of his dick...Kenma feels a shiver run down his spine. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want…” Tetsurou’s words break Kenma from his thoughts, and he looks back at his best friend--soulmate--with a small frown. 

“No…” Kenma looks down, finding Tetsurou’s hand still curled around his hip, “It’s okay…”

Glancing back up, Kenma watches as a nervous smile stretches Tetsurou’s lips, the red that was once exclusively on his cheeks now crawling down his neck. 

Several beats of silence settle over the room. 

“Um,” Tetsurou says, breaking the nervous quiet, “Okay?” 

Kenma nods, a smile on his lips as the hand on his hip slides down to the front of his boxers.  At the gentle pressure of Tetsurou’s hand against the erection trapped in his boxers , Kenma turns his head to muffle the quiet moan that parts his lips. 

“Tetsurou,” he mumbles into his pillow, letting his hips twitch up when Tetsurou’s fingers dip under the waistband of his underwear. 

“This isn’t going to work,” he hears his soulmate mutter under his breath, but before Kenma can make a comment, Tetsurou is moving Kenma  on top of him , weight balanced on his hands and knees.

“Hi,” Tetsurou grins down at him, cheeks still flushed red.

Kenma snorts, “Hi,” he replies, “Are you...going to continue?”

Tetsurou looks lost for a moment before he grins again and nods his head quickly, “Yeah,” he says, “ _ yeah _ , I can do that.” 

He shifts back to sit on Kenma’s thighs and Kenma watches as Tetsurou tugs his boxers down and holding in a hiss as the waistband of his underwear brushes against his erection.

With his mission complete, Tetsurou trails his index finger along the side of Kenma’s cock, “Kenma,”  he breathes out as he traces the vein that curls around the erection in front of him, “Can I kiss you?” 

The question throws Kenma off for a second, but he recovers quickly and replies with a soft ‘yes’. Tetsurou steadies himself with his free hand curled around Kenma’s hip as he leans down and Kenma feels those chapped lips press against his. 

Kenma sighs into the kiss, hips arching up as Tetsurou chooses that moment to wrap his hand around his cock. 

“Tetsu--” Kenma breaks the kiss, mouth parted as he gasps in air, “ _ oh _ .” he finishes, letting his eyes close as the rough skin of Tetsurou’s finger swipes across the slit. 

“Good?” Tetsurou mumbles the words into his cheek and Kenma can feel the small smile against his skin. 

The hand slides down his shaft before slowly dragging back up, ignoring how Kenma’s hips twitch up in a silent plea to go faster.

“Shut up,” Kenma huffs, still not comfortable with looking Tetsurou in the eye, “Hurry up,” he grumbles again, breath catching  as Tetsurou teases him with  another press against the slit. 

Soft laughter fills the air, and before Kenma can look away, Tetsurou catches his eye. The older boy presses a quick kiss to Kenma’s lips before sitting back up, gaze now entirely focused on the flushed dick in front of him. 

Kenma can’t find it in him to be embarrassed about Tetsurou’s intense gaze on his junk. 

With one hand still curled around Kenma’s hip, Tetsurou begins to move his hand faster, occasionally using his thumb to collect the precum that gathers at the head of  his cock.. 

Kenma sags back into the bed and squeezes his eyes closed, letting waves of pleasure crash over him. His hips still try to  jerk up, but with Tetsurou’s heavy grip on one hip, they  don’t go  very far.

A twist of his friend’s wrist coupled with a tightened grip and a hard drag down has Kenma clamping a hand over his mouth, a high whine slipping between his fingers.

He doesn’t even have to look at his soulmate to know that Tetsurou is grinning above him, “Like that?” he asks. Kenma doesn’t even get to respond before Tetsurou is doing it again and again. 

Kenma thrashes under Tetsurou’s grip, wanting nothing more than to buck up into the rough slide of that calloused palm. Faintly he can hear Tetsurou coo at him, can distantly hear the encouraging words from his soulmate. 

A tighter grip squeezes over his cock and Kenma’s body tenses, lips parting in a silent scream as he cums over Tetsurou’s fingers. 

“Gross,” Kenma says after he regains control over his limbs, nose wrinkling as he watches Tetsurou lick at one of his soiled fingers. He laughs softly at the disgusted look that crosses his soulmates face, covering it with his hand. 

“Agreed.” Tetsurou wipes his dirty hand on the bedsheets and Kenma makes a mental note to wash his sheets before the weekend is up. Kenma doesn’t even see it coming before it’s too late, and he grumbles as Tetsurou places a wet kiss on his cheek, “I hear pineapple helps,” He’s grinning too wide at Kenma, and with a huff, the blonde shoves his friend off his thighs, tucking his now soft penis back inside his boxers. 

He feels sated. Happy. Comfortable. 

“Where’d you hear that?” he questions. Tetsurou often acted like a suave know-it-all in school--being a grade ahead of Kenma meant that the blond couldn’t always call him out for being stupid--but Kenma knows that he’s just as dorky as Kenma himself. 

Tetsurou  had dropped backward to sprawl across the bed , and Kenma takes the time to curl into his soulmate’s side once more, taking note of the flush on Tetsurou’s cheeks.

“Ma...had a magazine…” 

Kenma smothers a laugh in Tetsurou’s shoulder, “You read sex tips from your mom’s magazine?” he suppresses more giggles. 

He can hear the pout in Tetsurou’s voice when he just grumbles out, “Shut up.”

Kenma doesn’t hide the smile on his lips and scoots up to press a soft kiss against Tetsurou’s cheek, “Thanks,” he says and another round of giggles almost escape him at the fierce blush that covers Tetsurou’s cheeks. 

“Anytime.”

* * *

 

It had been ten years since he met Tetsurou. Ten years of playing games together. Three years of playing volleyball together. And now Tetsurou was going away to Todai. He wasn't ready. 

"What if I meet Shouyou?” 

Kenma wasn’t ready for that either. 

It would change everything. It would change his entire world. It had changed once before--the moment he told Tetsurou that they could play video games. 

It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t scared. Of Tetsurou going to college, of his best friend leaving him.

What  _ if _ he met Shouyou? Would Tetsurou leave Kenma? 

He didn’t want to learn the answer to that. The thought was painful--heartbreaking. Tetsurou was  _ his _ , not Shouyou’s. He didn’t care that Shouyou was their other soulmate. Tetsurou was his and his alone. He didn’t need Shouyou. he didn’t  _ want _ Shouyou.

But the question plagues Kenma day and night--what if Shouyou was found? Only whispered promises made against the nape of Kenma’s neck--promises that Tetsurou would wait until Kenma was ready to look for Shouyou--soothed Kenma’s frazzled nerves. 

But it hurt. To know that his best friend wants more than just him. That Tetsurou wants to find their missing piece. 

Kenma wants to never find them. 

“They won’t be there.” Kenma tries to sound convincing--to Tetsurou and to himself--resolute in the fact that Tetsurou was not going to meet Shouyou at university. 

“How do you know that? Kids from all around get into Todai, there’s a possibility.” 

Kuroo sounds hopeful in all the ways Kenma was  _ not _ .

“I don’t think they’ll be there. I feel like you would have met them already if they did,” Kenma shrugs and shifts in his bed, reaching over to grab at his phone, “Didn’t you have freshman orientation not that long ago? Were there any  _ Shouyou _ ’s?” 

“No but they could be an upperclassman.” Tetsurou was frowning at him. Kenma doesn’t see  it, his focus entirely on the game on his phone screen, “Do you not want me to look for them?”

Kenma says nothing. They had already covered this. 

He wants absolutely nothing to do with the second name inked into his wrist. 

“If you aren’t ready to find them, I won’t  look for them. I just thought--”

Ignoring the game for a moment, Kenma looks up at his soulmate, golden eyes calculating, “Do what you want,” he mutters between clenched teeth, “I’m not ready, but I’m not their only soulmate. If you find them, I’ll be okay.” 

Kenma wishes for nothing more than for the name on his wrist to vanish.

Tetsurou only sighs at him, a frown on his face, “I’ll wait,” He concedes, lips thinned in the only show of impatience Kenma was going to see from him, “I’ll wait until you’re ready.” 

Kenma restarts the level on his game, letting his gaze drop back to his phone so he could focus on it, “Thanks,” he says as his character appeared on the screen. 

Tetsurou says nothing else.


	4. If I Went Out the Backdoor, Nobody Would Stop Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shouyou laughs as kisses are peppered against the freckles scattered across his cheeks, hands moving to swat away the offending lips. His mission fails when his hands are captured and pinned above his head. 
> 
> “Feel better?” Tobio asks him as he knocks their foreheads together. Shouyou smiles back and gives a small nod, giggling more when his best friend pecks his nose, “Good. Get up, we have homework to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alt Title: I cant belive that when i breathe, theres something good inside of me 
> 
> sorry but not really? 
> 
> Chapter title taken from [Believe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLigICVB-uM) by Hollywood Undead
> 
> NOTE: Warnings added b/c of this chapter-Self-Harm (and emotional abuse)

Saturday night finds Shouyou curled into the couch, legs crossed and a doll in his lap. It wasn’t like he  _ wanted _ to have the doll in his lap. Natsu had left it on the couch, and while Shouyou’s mom had told him to put it away, he was too engrossed with the cartoons on the television to do much else beside put it in his lap. Mindlessly he found himself combing his fingers through the doll’s hair, a small smile on his lips. 

It was relaxing. Not like the stupid action figure toys his father always got him. Shouyou didn't understand  _ why _ his toys were ‘supposed to beat each other up’ but his father had told him so. Shouyou rarely touched his toys, he didn't like them. They weren't calming like Natsu’s dolls. 

Plus this doll was kind of cute.

“Disgusting.” Shouyou flinches and pulls his hand out from the doll’s silky hair. His lips pull down into a frown, eyes cast to the side to avoid meeting his father’s cold gaze. 

He wants to disappear. 

“Where’s Natsu?” his father asks, that icy glare still fixated on Shouyou. 

He wants to be anywhere but  _ here _ . 

Shouyou just fiddles with the hem of his shorts and says nothing. 

“Why are you playing with your  _ sister’s _ toys when she isn't with you?” His voice rises in volume. Shouyou wants his mother, where is his mom? “I was accepting of you playing with her since you are her big brother, but those are not yours. Do you understand?”

Shouyou nods, but keeps his eyes down. He didn't want to see the anger brewing in his father’s eyes--the  _ disappointment _ \--he knew he was going to see. 

Why couldn't he be what his father wanted?

“Those are  _ girl _ toys, Shouyou. I have told you time and time again that big boys do not play with girl toys. Do you want to be labeled as  _ homosexual  _ at school? Is that want you want?”

Shouyou still doesn't know what  _ homosexual  _ means, but he vows to himself that he will never be what his father obviously hated.

“No father, I don't,” is what he ends up saying. 

“Good. Now give the doll back to Natsu and apologize for taking her things.” 

“Yes father.” Shouyou takes his chances and looks up at his father, seeing dark brown eyes seething in anger. He bites down a squeak and drops his gaze, his shoulders slumping in shame. 

“If I ever catch you doing this again…” the threat hands in the air and Shouyou stares at the doll in his lap. 

He wants to disappear. 

There’s a heavy sigh above him and Shouyou watches as his father’s feet take a few steps back, “Go wash up for dinner.”

With a nod of his head, Shouyou flees to his sister’s room, all but throwing the doll on her bed. 

He feels disgusting. 

Shouyou is 12 years old and it’s the first time he doesn't eat dinner with his family. 

Shouyou is 12 years old and finds that digging his nails into the skin of his arm overrides the pain thudding in his chest. 

He knows then that this isn't going to be the last time.

* * *

 

He tries, he really,  _ really _ , tries to be a good son. He picks up sports--and he sucks at all of them. He makes jokes in class, and gets in trouble. Which makes his mother upset and his dad yell at him. 

Nothing he does is good enough. Nothing he can do could possibly be  _ good _ enough for his father. More often than not he cries himself to sleep. Sometimes he cries in the shower, letting his tears mix in with the hot water stinging his body. 

Why can’t he be  _ enough _ ? 

Is that why he didn't have his soulmates? Is he not enough for them? Not good enough, not smart enough. Not brave or athletic or funny enough. He not enough for anyone, not even for the people who were  _ meant _ to love him forever.

Shouyou is barely 13 years old and the insides of his thighs is already littered with cuts in various stages of healing, creating a hatchwork pattern across his skin. Just the other day, Natsu had pointed out a fresh cut that peeked out from the hem of his shorts--commenting that he should put a bandaid on it--and he’s stopped wearing shorts for fear that he will one day soon have to explain to his baby sister that really, he isn't strong enough to be her big brother.

His only solace is Tobio. Tobio who makes sure he’s taking care of his self-inflicted wounds correctly, who checks in with him via text message, even though he hates texting. Tobio who asked his mom to make an extra lunch for Shouyou just so he could make sure his friend was eating enough. 

He’s probably not enough for Tobio either, but Tobio is enough for  _ him _ . 

(That’s a lie though, and he knows it.)

* * *

 

_ “You’re no son of mine.” _

The words ring clearly, even months later.

_ “Disgusting. _ ” 

He doesn’t know what is wrong with him. 

_ “Natsu is a better son than you ever will be.” _

He knows, he knows, he knows it so  _ well _ and he hates it. 

“Shouyou?” 

_ “I didn't ask for two daughters.” _

Shouyou snaps his eyes open, groaning into the darkness of the room. 

“Shou…” Turning his head to the source of the sound, Shouyou can feel the soft puff of breath against his face before gentle fingers touch his cheek, “You okay?” 

“No,” he croaks out, shifting forward so he can get closer to his friend, closer to the single person that thinks he’s  _ worth _ something, “No,  _ Tobio _ ,” his breath hitches, and Shouyou turns his head away from where his friend’s is, hands flying up to cover his face, “I just wanted to be a good boy.” 

Tobio says nothing.

“Why couldn't i just do what he  _ wanted _ ?” Shouyou takes in a deep breath, melting into Tobio’s body when it presses against his side. 

“I’m sorry,” is all the comfort his best friend offers him, but Shouyou knows Tobio means it from the bottom of his heart. 

Shouyou nods in the darkness, a humorless laugh escaping him, “Yeah...me too.” 

It’s been two years since the divorce, Shouyou is almost 16, and he still isn't over it. 

Silence settles over the room, comfortable and warm. 

Tomorrow he has to go back to his mother’s house. Tomorrow he has to survive without Tobio. ‘ _ you spend too much time with him _ ’ his mother had reasoned when Shouyou pleaded with her to let Tobio stay the night with them for a few days. 

But his mother had only smiled at him--no longer warm like his childhood memories--and said that Natsu misses him.

Shouyou knew that Natsu couldn’t care what he did and he knew his mother had an idea of what happened behind Shouyou’s closed bedroom door when Tobio wasn't there to let him self-destruct.

Was she hoping he would go too far one night? Is he just a mistake? Is he broken? Does she hate him?

He knows the answer to the last question, but shoves it back because the delusion that his mother  _ might _ still love him is better than reality. The reality is that no one loves him. 

Except Tobio. 

“You’re thinking too loud,” The words are  thick with sleep, irritated and rough, but it warms Shouyou’s body like nothing else can. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles back, shifting down so he can tuck his head under Tobio’s chin, “I’ll think quieter.” 

“Stop thinking,” Dry fingers rub at his exposed hip bone, the motion as soothing as it is intimate, “Go to sleep.” 

“Got it, Tobio-chan.”

* * *

 

There are moments when Shouyou is thankful he copied his house key and gave it to Tobio. 

Moments of weakness, moments of bad decisions.

Tobio was always there to make it better.

Like now. 

Like now when he’s sobbing on his bed, watching his best friend clean up his messes--again. 

“It hurts,” he mumbles out of habit, staring at his arm, his wrist, his  _ palm _ , as Tobio cleans the blood from his skin. 

“What the fuck did you  _ use _ this time, Shouyou?” Tobio isn't happy about what he does, Shouyou knows this, but he has never seen him so upset before. Not when it came to this. 

Then again, he had never cut up his arm and palm so bad that Tobio had to wipe the blood from his skin before he could disinfect his wounds. 

Amber eyes slide away from the blood on his arm, staring at the blank walls of his room, “A knife.” he forces between grit teeth, “I used one of the kitchen knives.” 

For a moment, Tobio’s hand pauses on his arm, “ _ What _ ?” Shouyou flinches at the raw anger in his friend’s voice, “Shouyou what the fuck?”

Shouyou doesn't respond, staring intently at the white walls until Tobio just sighs at him and continues to clean off his arm. 

“Where’s Natsu and your mom?” he asks after a while, setting down the bloodied rag and picking up a bottle of disinfectant. 

“Natsu’s at her club I think...I’m not sure where mom went.” Shouyou shrugs, turning back to watch Tobio clean up his messes, “Thanks for coming over,” he says softly, hissing when disinfectant stings his cuts, “Did you miss practice?” 

Tobio just snorts and presses a little harder than necessary on one of Shouyou’s cuts, “Dumbass. You’re more important than any practice  _ or _ game.” 

“Sappy, Tobio-chan,” Shouyou smiles, fighting back a giggle at Tobio’s flushed cheeks, “If i didn't know any better i would assume you  _ liked _ me.” 

“Only your soulmates would like an idiot like  _ you _ ,” Tobio quips back, throwing the blood-soaked cotton ball away and wetting another one with disinfectant. 

“And you’re my platonic soulmate. Which means you still like me!” Shouyou lets out a few giggles before he hisses again, jerking his arm back, “It  _ hurts _ .” he complains. 

“I’m not the one who used a dirty fucking kitchen knife to cut up my damn hand. Who know how many  _ germs _ are on that thing. This is all your own fault.” Tobio moves on to a deeper cut near Shouyou’s wrist, and looks away as Shouyou yelps in pain, “Stop hurting yourself and maybe we wouldn't have to do this.” 

“But then when would I get to see my best friend?” Shouyou forces a smile on his face, “Tobio-chan always hangs out with the volleyball boys now, I never see you!” 

“Shut up, Shouyou.” 

He frowns, biting at his lip, eyes fixated on Tobio’s movements, “How is Iwaizumi and Oikawa-san?” 

Tobio shrugs, tossing a group of dirtied cotton balls into the nearby trashcan, “At university. Iwaizumi and I text sometimes. Not often though.” 

“Do they help you practice?” 

“Oikawa does,” Tobio stares at his arm before sighing and running his hands through his hair, “You got him calling me ‘Tobio-chan’. I hate you for that.” 

_ “You’re no son of mine, you disgust me. I hate you.” _

Shouyou freezes, eyes slowly widening as Tobio’s words sink in. 

“Ah,  _ shit _ ,” He hears Tobio backtrack, feels the bed shift under him, but Shouyou isn't completely aware of either of those things until warm hands are cupping his cheeks and pulling his forward. Shouyou keeps his gaze on the bedsheets, he doesn’t  _ dare _ meet Tobio’s eyes. Not even when he feels soft puffs of breath across his face. Not when their foreheads finally connect. 

“I’m sorry.” He knows. He  _ knows _ Tobio doesn’t mean the things he says, he  _ knows _ that he’s just overreacting. But he can't help but overreact, he can’t help but get offended, “Fuck, I’m sorry, Shouyou.” 

“I know,” Shouyou nods and gives a small smile when Tobio just pushes his cheeks together.  _ Finally _ he looks up and sees the soft features of his best friend’s face, and once again wishes that Tobio was his one and only soulmate. 

Puffing out his cheeks--a habit Tobio got from Natsu, one that Shouyou thinks is adorable--Tobio lets go of Shouyou’s face and reaches for the bandages in the little pile of medical supplies he’s been using to fix Shouyou’s hand. 

“Alright,” he breathes out, “let’s finish this. When Natsu comes home, I’ll cook dinner for the two of you, okay?” 

Shouyou just beams at him and nods his head, “Okay!”

* * *

 

Shouyou laughs as kisses are peppered against the freckles scattered across his cheeks, hands moving to swat away the offending lips. His mission fails when his hands are captured and pinned above his head. 

“Feel better?” Tobio asks him as he knocks their foreheads together. Shouyou smiles back and gives a small nod, giggling more when his best friend pecks his nose, “Good. Get up, we have homework to do.” 

Shouyou visibly deflates, giving a loud groan before he slinks off Tobio’s bed. He snags his backpack from its place by the door and makes a point to drag it to where Tobio is waiting for him, “What if I said I didn't feel better?”

Tobio gives him an unimpressed look while he pulls out what Shouyou recognizes as his math notebook. He sighs again and plops to the floor, following suit by pulling out his own notebook.

He hates math, why did Tobio not  _ love _ him?

“We would still be doing homework,” Tobio states as he flips through the pages of his notebook, “But we would start with literature?” a smile plays at the corners of Tobio’s lips, knowing full well that Shouyou’s favorite subject was literature.

Shouyou pulls out a pencil, twirling it between his fingers and staring at the problems in front of him. “Hey,” he breaks the small silence that had settled around them, “this weekend can we go shopping? I want to look nice for a change. You know?”

Glancing up, Shouyou finds Tobio staring at him, a frown on his face. Before Shouyou can comment on the reasoning  _ behind _ said frown, Tobio shakes his head and sighs, “One day you can be yourself, like the dumbass you are.” 

It doesn't make any sense, but Shouyou isn't dumb enough to not understand the sentiment behind the words. He only smiles in response before focusing on his math problems once more. 

A loud groan fills the room, “Hey Tobio-chan, what did you get for number 54?”

* * *

 

“We did it!” Shouyou belly flops onto his new bed, laughing even as the air is pushed from his lungs, “Tobio!” he crows louder, just in case his friend couldn't hear him, “We made it!” 

The sound of bags being put down reaches his ears before his best friend is sitting on his back, ignoring the cries Shouyou is sure his assaulting his ears, “Shut  _ up _ , dumbass.” Tobio finally snaps at him. Shouyou only squawks before he quiets down. 

“Iwaizumi-senpai has really rubbed off on you, hasn't he,  _ Tobio-chan _ ?” the smack across the backs of his thighs Shouyou receives in response was totally worth it. Even if it stung a little bit.

Silence settles over their tiny dorm room, barely big enough to fit two beds and a desk. But they would make it work. They could always make it work.

“Mama isn't here,” Shouyou shatters the silence, twisting his body until Tobio got the hint and gets off  him, “Tobio, do you think i could be happy here?” 

There is no immediate response to his question, and Shouyou finds Tobio glancing around the room, the smallest of frowns on his lips, “You could be happy here,” he says slowly, turning to stare at Shouyou, “But you have to put forth effort. And not let the small things get you down.” 

Shouyou nods, a smile spreading across his face, “Would you help me shave my legs before classes start?” Tobio gives him a grunt of affirmation. Shouyou falls silent, staring at the ceiling, “Hey...Tobio?” 

“What  _ now _ ?” his best friend grumbles at him. 

“Do you ever wish mine name was in black ink?” Shouyou didn't dare look at Tobio, didn't dare say it to his face. It was hard enough to force it between his lips  _ now _ , after almost a decade of wishing for Tobio to be his soulmate instead of the two names he had on his palm. 

_ Tetsurou. _

_ Kenma. _

He doesn't know what to think of them, they have each other. They weren't looking for him. They didn't  _ want _ him. 

He isn't good enough. 

“I used to.” 

Shouyou isn't sure he ever sat up so fast in his life, “What? Really?” 

Tobio fixes him with an exasperated look before rolling his eyes, “Of course. I’ve known you forever. I’ve wondered what it would have been like if your name wasn't grey.” 

Shouyou was silent, staring at his childhood friend--weird to think they weren't children anymore--trying to digest the information he had just been given. 

“Do you love me, Tobio?” Shouyou inches forward, smiling when Tobio turns to glare at him, a flush high on his cheeks. 

“Shut  _ up _ , idiot. You know that answer,” Shouyou really  _ didn't _ , but he did now, and the smile that pulls his lips up was bright enough that even Tobio looks away, “Not...not in the same way your other soulmates will love you.” 

Shouyou hums in understanding and leans forward to kiss his best friend’s cheek, laughing happily as Tobio pushes him away moments later, “I know, it's okay Tobio.” Shouyou flops back on the bed, still grinning, “But! That’s nice to know.” He falls silent, feeling the weight of Tobio’s stare on his face. 

“We could have been happy. Just you and me,” The smile vanishes from Shouyou’s face, and he turns to glance at his friend, “If we were lovemates, you could have made me  _ really _ happy.” 

“And i don't make you happy  _ now _ ?” Tobio gives him with a glare that Shouyou can't look away from, but he splutters for a second. 

“Of course not! I mean--you make me happy now but--” 

“We can’t change it, stop talking about it, dumbass.” Tobio cuts him off with a sigh, standing up off the bed and stretching his arms high over his head, “Let’s unpack and get settled in before classes start.” 


	5. Why Don't We Go Somewhere Only We Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma’s first kiss wasn’t anything special, but his sixth kiss meant the world to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have fun enjoy cute kurokens. if u find continuity errors tell me b/c like 99% of this stuff wasnt written to be posted so uhhh. ye. 
> 
> Chapter title taken from [Somewhere Only We Know](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3KHJKj9GgsI) by Keane  
> If u wanna get ahold of me, my url is htakahiros (or ask me on my writing blog 'jwritesangst')

Kenma can still remember the day he let Tetsurou kiss him. 

If he was honest with himself, their first kiss had been a year prior. Back on the day that Kenma had his first handjob. But Kenma wasn’t keen on calling that his first kiss as it was merely a press of their lips before Kenma had pulled away, half out of the fact that Tetsurou’s fingers had just wrapped around his dick and half because he didn't want it to be his first kiss. Kenma is adamant about the fact that neither of the kisses that happened during the Handjob Incident (as Tetsurou had dubbed it so) counted as their first kisses.

Their first  _ real _ kiss wasn’t anything special--not like Kenma thinks first kisses should have gone. But Tetsurou was his soulmate, right? So it didn’t really matter how their first kiss went. Plus with the Handjob Incident only being the year before, Kenma figures they had messed up the order of ‘what to do with soulmate’. Because kisses were supposed to come  _ before _ handjobs, right?

Right. He was right. 

Despite that fact that Kenma is certain that their first kiss wasn’t because of anything special, it still  _ felt _ special. He recalls the way Tetsurou tilted his head up, the way his best friend had ducked down to press their lips together. Just thinking about it made Kenma’s lips tingle. 

It was a perfect kiss. 

Soft and gentle and  _ loving _ . So perfect in the moment, so perfect to think back on. It was the first time Kenma remembers thinking  _ more _ . It was the first time he had chased after Tetsurou so noticeably, standing on his toes in hopes that the kiss would last a bit longer, in hopes that he didn’t have to voice the fact that he wanted it to happen again. 

Laughter huffed across his damp lips, fingers pressing down against his bottom lip for the briefest of moments before their lips connected. Unlike the first one--so sweet and gentle--their second was  _ wet _ . Tetsurou’s tongue had licked at his bottom lip and slipped into Kenma’s mouth when he gave into the gentle pressure. 

Their second kiss was  _ hot _ in the way that Tetsurou’s breath fanned across  Kenma’s lips every time they parted, only to reconnect seconds later. They couldn’t breathe, but Kenma didn’t think breathing was all that necessary at that time. Breathing was second to feeling whatever  _ this _ was with Tetsurou.

Their second kiss, Kenma remembers, stung. Teeth clacking together when they didn't turn their heads just right. Tetsurou biting too hard on his bottom lip, Kenma retaliating by biting his tongue. Unfortunately that was also too hard, and they had to pull back, Tetsurou staring at him with those wide copper eyes. 

Kenma knows that even though their second kiss was nothing like their first, he can remember their laughter in the darkness of Tetsurou’s room. The way Tetsurou flopped back onto his bed, pulling at Kenma so that they fell together. He remembers teasing, fingers pressing into his mouth--Kenma biting on them as they weren’t welcome there.

Soft kisses stole Kenma’s third and fourth kisses. Kisses pressed against Tetsurou’s open mouth, their giggles echoing around them. 

Their fifth kiss was much like their first--a gentle press of their lips--though it was wetter than their first, more  _ charged _ than their first. 

Unlike their first, Kenma’s fifth kiss had the words  _ I love you _ on the end. Unlike his first kiss, Kenma cried this time.

His sixth kiss had  _ I love you too _ pressed into the skin of Tetsurou’s lips.  

Kenma’s first kiss wasn’t anything special, but his sixth kiss meant the world to him.

* * *

 

Looking up from his game, Kenma can see that Tetsurou is splayed across the rest of the bed, notes scattered on the bed in a rather haphazard manner. From his vantage point, Kenma can see the way Tetsurou’s muscles move under his skin as his soulmate flips through pages in his textbook. 

“I want to have sex,” Kenma says in the quiet of the room, looking back down at his game. 

“Okay,” is all that Tetsurou says back to him, but Kenma doesn’t mind the distracted answer. He just smiles to himself as his he returns his attention back to the game in his hands. 

Several more minutes pass before Kenma assumes Tetsurou is either done with his assigned reading or is just taking a break, “Wait. Sex?” The bed shifts, but Kenma doesn't look up from his game, a frown pressing down on the corners of his lips as he fights to not die in his battle against the boss. 

“Yeah, it sounds fun.” 

“Fun? Kenma,  _ fun _ ? Okay,” Even without looking, Kenma knows that Tetsurou is blushing, eyes darting around the room as he likely takes stock on if they have the needed items to even  _ have _ sex. 

“We don’t...need condoms,” even as the words leave Kenma’s lips, he feels heat rush to his cheeks. With renewed vigor, he tries to focus on his game. Just a little bit more. Just a little bit…

The boss falls to the ground, and Kenma’s character does a little animated fist pump. 

He did it. 

Slowly he looks up from his game, seeing that Tetsurou was hiding his face in his hands, mumbled words that Kenma wasn't going to attempt to catch falling between the cracks in his fingers. 

“Tetsurou?” Setting his gaming device next to him on the bed, Kenma scoots forward, reaching out to lightly touch the tips of Tetsurou’s fingers, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you.” 

“ _ Pressure me _ , you say,” Tetsurou’s voice is a higher pitch than normal, Kenma realizes with a smile. With gentle tugs, he manages to get Tetsurou to uncover his face, and Kenma can’t help laughing at his soulmate’s red cheeks, “Shut up.”

Tears are starting to gather at the corners of Kenma’s eyes, and he pulls away to wipe at them, “Do you not want to,” he asks instead of apologizing, “We don't have to.”

It’s weird, comforting Tetsurou the way he is. It seems like just mere months ago the same boy was talking Kenma into a handjob. It felt like just the other day Tetsurou was rolling their hips together, their heavy breathing mingling with the soft morning light filtering through the cracks in their blinds. 

“I want to,” Tetsurou finally speaks, and this time it sounds normal, “I just never thought you would.” 

Oh. That made sense. Kenma puts a small amount of distance between himself and Tetsurou, thinking back on all the times he had shied away from more  _ intimate _ touch. 

“I wasn’t ready,” he answers simply, though he knows that having sex with Tetsurou has been on his mind for quite some time. Maybe the mood didn’t feel right. Maybe he really hadn’t been ready. 

He was ready now, though. Wasn’t he? He wasn't pushing himself, was he? 

“Kenma,” Gold eyes flick up to stare at his soulmate--best friend, boyfriend?--finding a soft smile playing at Tetsurou’s lips, “Come here.” 

“No, you’re in the middle of the bed. That’s inconvenient.”  _ Come here _ he means. He expects Tetsurou to humor him, to maybe crawl into Kenma’s lap and kiss him until neither one of them can breathe again. To bite at his neck while Kenma slips his hands under Tetsurou’s shirt and digs his nails into the flesh on his back. 

He does  _ not _ expect Tetsurou to grab his ankle and pull him down until Kenma is on his back. He doesn't think that Tetsurou had the guts to cage him in, hands on either side of Kenma’s neck while his best friend leers down at him. 

“I said come here, did I not?” Kenma hates the smile on Tetsurou’s face. It’s too smug. But before he can offer a retort, Tetsurou is leaning down to press a soft kiss to the corner of Kenma’s mouth. He trails his lips across Kenma’s jaw and down his neck until he reaches the small bit of collarbone Kenma’s shirt revealed. 

“Tetsu--”

“I don’t,” Tetsurou interrupts him, “I don’t want to promise you that we’ll have sex. Right now.” His words are spoken into Kenma’s neck, punctuated with another kiss, “But if it happens, you’ll be okay, right?” Kenma shifts a bit, fingers pulling lightly at Tetsurou’s hair until copper eyes meet his. 

“I’m okay,” he says slowly, hating how the words fight him on the way out. Why was speaking his mind so difficult sometimes? It was so much easier with Tetsurou knowing what he wanted through their nonverbal communication. 

And yet. Sometimes Tetsurou needed words to be reassured.

When a smile lights up Tetsurou’s face, Kenma knows that he said the right thing. Laughter spills from Tetsurou’s lips as he closes the small space between their lips, licking his way into Kenma’s mouth. 

Despite how often they kiss, Kenma whines when Tetsurou licks at the seam of his lips, a silent request for more. Reaching up to tangle his fingers in Tetsurou’s hair, Kenma tilts his head to the side as he barely parts his lips, feeling Tetsurou’s tongue slide into his mouth. Kenma feels his hips shifts against the bedsheets, and he presses Tetsurou closer against him. Before he could even really get into the kiss, Tetsurou is pulling away to kiss his cheek, his laughter fanning across Kenma’s warm skin. 

“This isn't going to work,” Kenma frowns and lets his fingers untangle from Tetsurou’s hair, unsure of what was going to happen. Was the mood not right? Was Tetsurou really supposed to be studying right now? Was Kenma being a Bad Soulmate?

Another kiss to his cheek drags Kenma out of his thoughts, and he meets Tetsurou’s gaze, words pressing against the tight seam of his lips, “Sit in my lap.” Tetsurou says to him before Kenma feels cold air rush against his heated skin. Golden eyes watch as Tetsurou makes himself comfortable against the headboard of the bed, a pillow acting as a buffer between his lower back and the wooden headboard. 

It dawns on Kenma that Tetsurou hadn’t said  _ no _ , just. No to the position. He sits up quickly, grumbles about how the position was Tetsurou’s idea in the  _ first place _ , but Tetsurou silences him with a quick kiss and it’s difficult to  _ not _ smile against Tetsurou’s lips as Kenma settles himself in Tetsurou’s lap, quick pecks against the corner of his mouth spurring him on. 

“You’re adorable,” Tetsurou says against his cheek, his hands settling on Kenma’s hips. Kenma is aware of the flush on his cheeks, but he isn’t sure if it's from their earlier activities or Tetsurou’s words. He assumes that it might be a bit of both, “I love you,” Tetsurou continues and this time when Kenma feels the heat rush through his body, he knows that Tetsurou’s words are the cause. 

“Stop,” he says, though the words sound weak even to his own ears, “Stop that and just…” he doesn't know what he wants but he definitely wants Tetsurou to stop being so  _ sappy _ . “Kiss me.” 

Tetsurou answers in the form of a soft kiss; one of his hands leaving Kenma’s waist to cup his face. Kenma can’t help but to whine at the  _ slowness _ of their actions, but each time he tries to provoke Tetsurou into hurrying up, he only pulls away. 

“Please,” Kenma breathes when Tetsurou pulls away  _ again _ , “Tetsurou,  _ please _ .” 

Tetsurou gives a small smile, his thumb sweeping across Kenma’s cheek. Kenma is positive that his cheeks are red, if not his entire face by now. Tetsurou puts more distance between them--ignoring Kenma’s protest--to place a quick kiss on the top of his nose before sealing their lips together once more. This time when Kenma parts his lips, Tetsurou doesn't pull away, though the kiss is still much too slow for Kenma’s liking. 

He doesn't complain, instead sliding his hands through Tetsurou’s hair, tangling his fingers in the messy locks as he breathes a sigh through his nose. It was too slow and yet it was perfect. 

Tetsurou’s tongue sliding against his own, pressing against his gums, tracing patterns into the roof of his mouth.  _ Perfect _ . Slow, but perfect. 

Though the pace is slow, Kenma finds his hips rolling against Tetsurou’s, feels the slow drag of their erections through through their clothing. He wants to rid himself of his pants, wants to feel the heat of Tetsurou’s skin against his. He wants, he  _ wants _ .

“Testu--” Kenma breaks their kiss with a loud whimper, leaning forward and rolling his hips harder against Tetsurou, hoping that the added closeness will help relieve the heat that was starting to coil in his lower abdomen. Tetsurou--likely having the same problem--slides his hands from Kenma’s waist down to his ass, shoving Kenma forward as Tetsurou’s hips rolled up to meet him. 

It feels good--great even--but it's how they have always done things. Grinding against each other, hard pants against the other’s skin. It’s all been done before. Kenma wants  _ more _ . The slick slide of Tetsurou’s dick against his own--against his thighs, his mouth, his  _ ass _ . 

Kenma wants to know what it's like to have Tetsurou’s fingers press inside of him, wants to feel those fingers curl into his prostate, wants to muffle his screams against Tetsurou’s sweaty skin. He wants Tetsurou to slide Kenma down onto him, with that gentle yet so aggravating  _ slowness _ , wants to feel Tetsurou’s dick fill him up. 

He wants--no he  _ needs _ this. 

“Off,” Tetsurou pulls Kenma from his thoughts with fingers that pluck at the elastic of his sweats, “Take them off,” Tetsurou says again, with another--harder--tug at Kenma’s sweatpants. 

And Kenma  _ would _ take them off if it wasn't for the fact that he he was straddling Tetsurou’s lap and taking off his pants would require him to  _ move _ . Which he wasn't about to do, “If you want them off take them off yourself,” He hears the pout in his voice, but he’s more distracted by the laugh Tetsurou gives, more distracted in the way Tetsurou closes the distance between their lips to kiss the tip of his nose. He barely notices how Tetsurou’s hands had gripped his hips again and lets out a yelp as he tilted backwards. He expects to land hard against Tetsurou’s outstretched legs, but Tetsurou lowers him gently, laughter still spilling from his lips. 

“Jerk,” Kenma huffs, ignoring the flush he can  _ feel _ creeping down his neck. 

“You told me to take initiative. So I did,” Kenma feels warm fingers slip under the hem of his sweats, feels Tetsurou brush against the hem of his boxers before sliding his fingers under those too. With gentle tugs, Tetsurou drags both garments down Kenma’s legs, taking care to use his free hand grab at each of Kenma’s ankles in turn, ensuring that the fabric didn't tangle between them. 

Hands slide up his legs, and over the outsides of his thighs before one curls around his hip, the other slipping to press flat against the small of his back, “Up,” Tetsurou says softly as he pulls Kenma back up into a sitting position, and this time Kenma helped him out. Dead weight wasn't fun to lift, and he didn't want Tetsurou dropping him back onto his legs because that would not be  _ fun _ . Or sexy. Or attractive at all. 

Actually Kenma is pretty sure it would ruin the mood entirely. And he would have been witness to Tetsurou’s slow removal of his pants for  _ nothing _ . 

Once Kenma settles himself back into Tetsurou’s lap comfortably, he leans forward to kiss at Tetsurou’s lips once, twice, three times before he licks his way into his soulmate’s mouth, tongue slipping between parted lips. 

It’s Tetsurou who breaks from the kiss this time, though Kenma can't find it in him to protest when those same lips, slick with their mixed saliva press kisses along the curve of his jaw, making a wet trail to his neck. Teeth worry bits of skin between them before sucking dark marks against Kenma’s pale skin. Kenma feels his back arch under Tetsurou’s hands, hears the silvery sigh that falls from his lips. 

“Tetsurou,” he breathes, pressing his palms flat against Tetsurou’s chest for a moment before curling the fabric under his fingers, “ _ Tetsurou _ ,” Kenma gasps, hips jerking forward. 

“Yes?” Tetsurou pulls away from Kenma’s neck, though Kenma knows he’s likely eyeing the large,  _ dark _ mark his lips had been wrapped around only moments before. His assumptions are confirmed when a feather light kiss is dropped onto the wet patch of skin. 

“Take your shirt off,” Kenma says, slowly gathering oxygen back in his lungs. His face feels like it's on fire, and judging by their activities, he knows that the flush extends well past his neck, “I want it off,” he repeats, pulling at the fabric still curled under his hands. 

“Only if you take yours off too,” Kenma loosens his grip on Tetsurou’s shirt, meeting his gaze with an unimpressed stare of his own. 

“A trade-off?” The sigh that slithers up Kenma’s throat and past his lips is  _ entirely _ warranted. Removing his hands from Tetsurou’s chest, Kenma slides his palms down his own, stopping at the hem of his shirt, curling the fabric beneath his fingers, “Then you have to take off your pants too. Boxers too.” At Tetsurou nod and a stolen kiss, Kenma pulls his shirt over his head, letting it fall from his fingers and onto the bed. 

Silence envelops their bedroom. Kenma stills under the curious gaze Tetsurou pinned him with. It wasn't like they had never seen each other naked--showers together plus the other countless times they had slid their bodies together just some examples--but Tetsurou had never looked at him like  _ that _ . 

Kenma pushes his tongue out to lick at his lips, feeling his throat dry up when Tetsurou’s eyes seem to track the movement. 

“Beautiful.” his voice is reverent, soft in the otherwise silence of the room, “You’re beautiful.” 

He’s not sure what Tetsurou sees that Kenma doesn't already know about himself, but he’s not about to correct him. Not when fingers are pressing into the soft flesh of his stomach--not so much  _ intimate _ as it is  _ curious _ . Kenma’s hesitant to say anything as Tetsurou’s hands map out his body. 

“Your shirt,” he breaks the silence anyways, though he’s not sure if Tetsurou even heard him. It takes a moment, but warm hands leave his skin for the briefest of moments, and Kenma watches as Tetsurou’s bare chest is revealed, freed from the confines of the shirt he had been wearing previously.

Unlike Kenma’s pale, rather milky skin, Tetsurou is tan. Kenma isn't sure if it's all natural or if it's because of the amount of time Tetsurou spends in the sun, but he wasn't going to complain. 

“You’re perfect,” Kenma doesn't even have time to react to  _ those _ words before Tetsurou is pressing a kiss against his stomach, breath tickling Kenma’s skin, “Perfect,” words spoke against his skin, but Kenma feels heat rush through him, “I love you.” 

“Stop,” Kenma whines at the words, pushing Tetsurou back with hands to his shoulders. He feels the grin against his skin before Tetsurou relents, pulling back with a soft sigh, “Stop that, stop  _ saying _ that.” 

He loves it, and he knows that Tetsurou  _ knows _ that Kenma loves hearing it. Uses it to his advantage, presses the words into Kenma’s skin every chance he gets. Kenma hates it.

“Take off your pants,” Kenma demands, keeping his eyes trained on a faint freckle that rests on Tetsurou’s shoulder, not daring to meet Tetsurou’s eyes. 

“Bossy,” Tetsurou says lightly, giving Kenma’s collarbone a careful kiss, hands curling around Kenma’s hips again to pull him up onto his knees, giving Tetsurou the space to lift his hips and shimmy off his own pants and boxers. This time he doesn't go slowly, and Kenma hears the thud of the articles of clothing hitting the floor, “Better?” 

This time Kenma  _ does _ meet Tetsurou’s gaze, finding equal parts mirth and love shining in those copper eyes. 

“Yeah,” his breath leaves him in a rush, sitting himself back down in Tetsurou’s lap, giving a slow roll of his hips. 

Tetsurou’s hands slide around his waist and dip down to grab at Kenma’s ass yet again, closing the remaining amount of distance that rested between them. Kenma finds his hands curling back into Tetsurou’s hair, rocking his hips down in time to Tetsurou’s shallow thrusts upward.

Feeling the familiar heat coil in his stomach, Kenma presses his mouth against Tetsurou’s, muffling the embarrassing noises that seemed to crawl up his throat. 

“Lube” Kenma gasps against Tetsurou’s mouth, “Tetsurou, we need  _ lube _ .”

“Top drawer,” Tetsurou hums against his collarbone as Kenma ducks away, intent on having his first time  _ not _ having his ass ripping apart. He read horror stories. That was not going to happen to him, “Hurry up,” Tetsurou continues to speak into his skin, and Kenma finds it oddly endearing. Just one of those things to put on the growing list of  ‘stupid things my soulmate does that somehow makes me smile’. “I love you.” 

Kenma falters with the bottle of lube he had  _ just _ curled his fingers around, and lurching forward to grab at it honestly wasn't the best of decisions. It might have been one of his worst. 

He hears Tetsurou shout as he tips off the bed, but with Kenma’s flailing in hopes of righting himself and Tetsurou trying to avoid said limbs, it is not surprise that Kenma slips off the bed, landing on his back with a dull thud. 

“Oh my god,” he hears Tetsurou say, looking down at him with wide eyes. 

Kenma lifts his head for a moment before letting it fall back on the wooden floor of their apartment. Holding out his hand, he shakes the bottle in his grasp, “I got the lube.” he says, smiling as he hears Tetsurou laugh from above him.

* * *

 

Kenma is in his 2nd year of university when he gets the sudden desire to see Shouyou. 

It’s shocking, the revelation--in the middle of class nonetheless.

Though, Kenma thinks about it as he doodles in the margin of his notes, he figures it not all that sudden. Ever since he had entered university, he kept thinking that he would run into their missing soulmate. Kenma had even taken to finding solace in the named inked onto his skin, rubbing at it from under his multitude of bracelets when he got overwhelmed.

He always wondered if the mark would burn against his wrist when he found Shouyou, or if Shouyou would just  _ know _ who he was. Or if Kenma would just know who they were. 

He knows that it doesn't work like that. 

So in all honesty, Kenma notes, it's not a sudden desire to find his soulmate, but a sudden  _ realization _ . 

Less shocking than it had been mere minutes before, Kenma looks up to stare at the board, a yawn trying its hardest to pry his lips apart. In an attempt to look like a Good Note Taking Student, Kenma presses his lips together, concentrating on  _ not yawning _ and  _ note taking _ . 

He ends up yawning anyways.

* * *

 

_ To: Tetsurou ( o 3 o )  _

_ From: Kenma _

_ I want to look for Shouyou _ .

 

Kenma sends the text message as he walks to his next class, easily dodging other students who are trying to get to their own destinations. It doesn’t even take a full minute before Kenma’s phone is buzzing in his hands with a new text. 

 

_ To: Kenma _

_ From: Tetsurou ( o 3 o )  _

_ really!!! REALLY??!!!  r you sure? ur ready?? i mean i dont want to pressure u!!! _

 

Sometimes Tetsurou was really adorable.

Kenma lets a fond smile tilt his lips, fingers already typing out a reply before he had completely finished reading his soulmate’s text.

 

_ To: Tetsurou ( o 3 o )  _

_ From: Kenma _

_ Yeah. It’s okay now. I’m ready. Thank you for waiting. _

 

The resulting text message was just several excited emoticons followed by way too many exclamation points.

* * *

 

Kenma is woken up in the middle of the night by harsh breathing and an overly warm bed. 

“Kuroo?” he mutters sleepily, turning over to reach for his boyfriend, “What…what’s wrong?” 

It’s a sudden movement, but before Kenma’s tired brain can register that he is moving, he is wrapped up in Kuroo’s hot arms, pressed against a chest that is still heaving with ragged breaths. 

“You love them, right?” 

He’s confused. 

_ Who _ ? 

“Tell me you love them as much as you love me,” Kuroo is shaking, he’s shaking and scared and Kenma isn’t sure how to fix it. 

_ Shouyou _ . 

How does he answer? He knows he should love the missing member, but he doesn’t know who they are. How can he love someone he doesn’t know? He can’t feel them. He can’t understand them like Kuroo can. Hell, he can barely feel Kuroo’s emotions on a  _ good _ day, what makes Kuroo think that Kenma can understand  _ Shouyou’s _ feelings? 

“Do you love them?” he answers instead, feeling Kuroo tighten his grip around his body, “If you love them, I’ll love them too.” 

_ Because I love you. _

_ I trust you _ . 

Too long. Kenma’s in this embrace for too long. He can’t breathe, he can’t move. He wants to get out, get space, find where he is again; he wants to feel comfortable in his own skin. 

He can’t. Kuroo is still shaking.

“Their…hurting. Kenma,  _ Kenma _ …” He’s never heard his boyfriend sound so broken. 

“We’ll find them. I promise. We’ll find them.” Kenma breathes out against Kuroo’s too warm chest, “I’ll find them for you, I’ll do it, I’ll…make you both happy.” 

He can deal with this discomfort. It’s for Kuroo after all. 

It’s for his  _ Shouyou _ after all.

* * *

 

He’s not 100% sure how Tetsurou got the key that gave them roof access in their apartment complex, but he isn’t going to complain. It’s the night before finals week officially starts, their last day of faux peace. Their apartment has become a warzone, books and papers scattered in every direction. On more than one occasion, Tetsurou had taken Kenma’s papers instead of his own, resulting in mad dashes across campus and hurried meetings between classes to switch assignments. 

But for now, the offending papers and their disaster of a house is far below them. It’s only them on the roof. Around them Kenma can hear the Tokyo nightlife--the sounds of people talking drifting up to them in waves. 

“It’s nice.” Kenma comments, tilting his head back to stare at the inky black sky. 

He wishes he could see the stars, maybe ask Tetsurou to tell him what the constellations are, but he knows here in the middle of Tokyo, it’s impossible to see the stars.

The city never truly sleeps after all.

Tetsurou doesn’t respond for some time, and honestly Kenma is certain that he’s fallen asleep. 

“We need to find Shouyou,” he finally says. Kenma continues to stare up at the black sky, frown pulling at his lips, “They are getting worse.” 

Kenma knows that he’s right, but he opts to not comment. He wants to hope that they have time, that after almost 22 years of his life, Kenma still had  _ time _ . He knew that he had told Tetsurou that he was ready--and it wasn't a lie. 

Kenma just didn't know where to start. 

“I’ll start looking for him,” he says, a hint of desperation in his voice. He’ll start looking, he’ll project his feelings or  _ something _ in hopes that Shouyou is like Tetsurou and can feel his emotions. Hopes that Shouyou can feel  _ something _ . Anything. 

They have to have time. 

“Kenma,” Tetsurou begs, and Kenma doesn’t understand. 

He’s not sure if he wants to. 

“Kenma, Shouyou tried to kill themself.” 

It feels like his heart is in his throat, like he’s about to throw up. 

_ Shouyou tried to kill themself. _

This was his fault. They should have started looking sooner. Kenma shouldn’t have wished him gone. 

_ Shouyou tried to kill themself. _

It was all his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im v sorry
> 
>  
> 
> yell at me @htakahiros (tumblr)
> 
> following the tag fic: brokenness is an art form  
> in case any of u dont feel comfy yelling directly @ me but still would like to yell.


	6. So If I Surive I'll See You Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is going to be great!” Shouyou shouts as he enters the store, eyes lighting up at all the clothing he can see, “So great!”
> 
> alternate title: No more sun, why's it always night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i return after like 2 months of absence. sorry!!! 
> 
> alternate title pt 2: I've been trying too long with too dull of a knife
> 
> title (and alternate titles) taken from [Bullet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lP077RitNAc) by Hollywood Undead
> 
> haha i had to be reminded but i forgot the fucking WARNINGS OH MY SHIT
> 
> Warnings: Self-Harm in extreme detail. also its just a sad chapter so like yeah

Shouyou stares at the ink carved into his palm, wishing it would just go _away_.

 _Tetsurou_.

He watches as blood blooms across the name before it makes its way down his palm, staining the name underneath. A part of Shouyou never wants to meet these people, never wants to see what they look like. For so long they have been just names to him, people without faces. An ever-present reminder that he was alone.

_Kenma._

A reminder that no one loves him.

_Lonely._

He’s alone in this world, a world that doesn't seem to care for him, for what he does. No one passes him a second glances whether he is smiling or not. No one _cares_.

He’s alone in a world that wouldn’t miss him. Alone in a world that has done nothing but beaten him down.

His only saving grace is Tobio. _Was_ Tobio.

Does Tobio even love him? Or is it just a sense of possessiveness because Shouyou’s name was carved into his chest?

Were soulmates even _real_?

Another cut across his palm.

He was meant to be alone. Tobio wasn't meant to love him. His family didnt love him, so why would Tobio be any different?

He wasn't meant to live.

He doesn't deserve to have Tobio in his life, making his forget that he wasn't supposed to be alive. Tobio, the one person who seemed to care for his well being.

Tobio, his friend who was on a one-man mission to stop Shouyou from self destructing.

Shouyou’s laughter rings in his small dorm room, and he finds that he’s thankful that Tobio isn’t home for once. Isn’t home to watch his mind fall deeper into the pit of despair Tobio spent _years_ slowly dragging him out of.

Shouyou’s not even sure what pushed him back. The dark is welcoming as it is cold, pressing against his warm body, whispering in his ears that _it’s okay to let go_.

He’s thankful that Tobio went out with the team without him, celebrating their win against Ibaraki University, though it had only been a practice match, it was something to be proud of.

Maybe that’s what caused him to smile tightly when he was asked if he wanted to join them, maybe their win--the way they clapped Tobio, _his Tobio_ , on the back, awakened something Shouyou has spent years trying to shove away.

Bitter. He’s bitter. Bitter that Tobio has a place to belong, and all Shouyou gets is _Tobio_. They aren’t alone together.

So Shouyou thinks that maybe Tobio shouldn’t have him at all then. That Tobio should let him go, be free with his volleyball friends instead of pushing through a psychology degree for the benefit of _helping Shouyou_.

And he knows, god he knows, that Tobio won’t let him go without a fight. So the best course of action was to disappear when he wasn't looking.

When he was gone.

Just drift into the blackness his mind supplies for him.

Just _accept it_.

A cry sounds in the room, but Shouyou keeps the blade pressed against his wrist, amber eyes watching with  childlike wonder as blood stains the metal.

 _Useless_.

He was useless in everything he did. In loving Tobio, in being a good son, a good brother. He fails at life. He fails at _living_.

Why else would his father leave him, what other reason is there for why his mother can’t look him in the eyes anymore?

Why she doesn't smile?

Natsu hasn’t talked to him in months, though Shouyou can pin their separation back years prior. His failure to be a good son caused their father to leave, caused Natsu to grow up tossed between houses. Shouyou can still remember the hurt in her eyes when he explained that he wasn't going to their father’s house with her. He remembers the hatred in her eyes--so much like their mother’s, like his--when she walked in on him digging a blade into his skin.

 _Pathetic_.

He was, wasn't he? He was pathetic; a failure. He didn’t fit in anywhere, not at home, not in college.

No one wanted him.

_Tetsurou?_

_Kenma?_

_Help me._

With shaking hands, Shouyou pressed the blade against his wrist, pushing down until his skin was taut against the sharp metal.

Even his soulmates didn’t want him.

_I need you._

He was just wasting space at this point, taking things that weren’t his, opportunities that could be of better use for someone worthy.

_I’m lonely._

Shouyou squeezes his eyes shut, jerking the blade against his skin. Amber eyes snap open at the white hot pain that shoots up his arm. A cry fights its way past his lips, and dropping the blade onto his bed, Shouyou grabs at his injured arm, fighting back whimpers as blood seeps through his fingers.

He deserves this, this pain, this suffering. He was broken after all. No one loves a broken person.

What about Tobio? Tobio loves him, right? Loved? Loves? Shouyou wasn’t all that sure anymore.

_It hurts._

It was true that volleyball season had kicked off, and that the tournaments were set to start, so Tobio wasn’t home as much. But _what if_ he stayed out later so that he didn’t have to come home and deal with Shouyou’s shit? Did Tobio truly love him? Was it just an act? A sense of duty? Because he was Tobio’s soulmate? Did Tobio even care about him?

_Was it a lie?_

Shouyou finds himself slapping the mattress under him, bloodied fingers reaching for his blade.

_Where is it, where is it?_

Shouyou presses the blade against bloodied skin, a pained giggled slipping from his lips as he makes another incision in his flesh. It doesn't bleed like the last one did, not as quickly at least. He can see the pure white inside the cut, and with a sort of morbid fascination Shouyou watches as it turns pink before it bleeds out into that bright red he loves seeing on his pale skin.

The tip of his blade digs into his the second cut and Shouyou scrunches his brows at the flash of pain and _please stop_ his body sends to his brain.

But the red on his skin looked so pretty, so tempting to see _more_. To watch the blood flow from his skin, to watch it stain the paleness of his flesh. Shouyou could smell it, the stench of copper lingering in the air around him. It reminds him of late nights in his room, the taste of blood heavy in his mouth, the smell suffocating him as he ripped into his skin again and again.

It’s better this way, he knows it. Tobio was better off without him dragging his friend down daily. Natsu didn’t need an older brother who couldn’t function. His father was right, his father was always right.

He was a failure. A lost cause. Unworthy of love. Useless.

 _Pathetic_.

Tears that silently slide down his cheeks, lips puffy and smeared with blood.

The blood reminds him of _home_.

It reminds him of how he had grown up. Evolving from his nails to scissors at the tender age of 14. How he learned that knives were _so much better_ . How digging the tip into the center of _Kenma’s_ name made him feel powerful. Knives were powerful, his favorite tool for years.

It hurt and it was rough, but the marks on his palms never scarred. A pity, really. Shouyou remembers the stench of blood at the age of 16, how he licked his palm clean when he heard Natsu knocking on his door. He still remembers her look of horror--or was it disgust?--at Shouyou’s bloodstained lips, the knife dangling from his fingers.

She had called him disgusting then. Shouyou remembers laughing. Just like her father.

When she had left, Shouyou had stared at the ink scarred into his palm, just as vibrant as they were years ago. Before he turned to cutting into them. Before his father left him. Before his mother hated him.

Another slice against his skin, and it takes longer for it to bleed. Shouyou finds it fascinating and ends up cutting across the new mark.

This time his fingers jerk as he cuts along his arm. Shouyou vaguely wonders if he hit a tendon.

He realizes he doesn't care.

This time it bleeds.

Dropping his blade back onto his bed, Shouyou trails his finger through the blood on his arm, a tuneless hum sounding from his throat.

 _It’s better this way_.

Tobio was better off with him gone. His mother wouldn’t have to worry about her failure of a son. Natsu can finally be an only child, his father can be free of him.

Shouyou can feel his pulse thud in his arm.

 _It’s okay,_ he thinks, _you can give up now._

As Shouyou’s eyes slide shut, he hears the thud of his blade hitting the floor below him.

The sound is soon forgotten as he sees bits of his life flutter into his vision.

He sees Natsu’s first steps. Hears the word _Shouyou_ fall from her lips. It sounds like magic, even now. Shouyou watches his mother smile at him, watches her kneel down to his level, sees those amber eyes--so much like his own-- _happy_. Shouyou feels himself smile back before her smiles turns into a sneer of disgust, her eyes cold.

 _Disgusting_ , the word echoes around him, _no son of mine._

Shouyou wants to shout, say that he will be a better son, that he’ll stop liking boys, that dolls were gross, he was so sorry _Mother, Father come back please_! But darkness surrounds him, cold and heartless. It doesn't feel as welcoming as it did moments ago.

 _No!_ He’s screaming now, he knows it. He has to be. His arm throbs painfully and Shouyou glances down at it, watching as his cuts appear on his skin, the blood shimmering against his skin.

 _No, no, I’m sorry!_ He covers the cuts with his hand, pressing into them in hopes that they stop bleeding. But the blood just seeps through his fingers.

_No son of mine._

Shouyou starts, whipping around to see his father standing there.

Shouyou trips as he stumbles toward him, tears streaking down his face, lips parted and shoulders heaving as sobs wrack his body.

 _Father, Father!_ His father just continues to stare at him, impassive until Shouyou comes to a halt mere feet from him. It is then that he sees the furrow between his father’s brows.

 _Disgusting. Worthless._ His father’s lips aren’t moving, but the words are his all the same.

_I wish you would have died._

Shouyou just smiles, legs crumbling under him. He doesn't notice his father fade from his view, does not feel the cold crawl into his bones.

 _Yeah,_ he thinks, _me too._

* * *

 

Shouyou’s eyes flutter open to reveal an image of his mother above him, her amber eyes filled with tears, her hand clasp over his mouth.

 _A dream_ , Shouyou thinks, smiling at the vision of his mother. He always wondered if he could see those eyes again. So full of warmth--so full of _love_. He can barely picture the last time he saw them, in the year leading up to his mother picking her son over her husband.

Shouyou would spend the rest of his life wondering if she regretted that decision.

“Shouyou,” he can hear her words, muffled behind her hand. He tries to reply, but his lips dont move when he attempts to part them. He’s confused, but assumes it’s because this is a dream. A vision.

 _It’s not real_.

“Oh, _Shouyou_ ,” he watches as her hand falls from her mouth, watches as she crumbles next to him, grabbing at his hand, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize,” She’s sobbing.

Shouyou takes pleasure in seeing this side of his mother. He had never seen her break down like this before. It was amusing, in a way. To see her cry over _him_ , of all people.

“I love you,” she says, bringing Shouyou’s hand to his lips, kissing at his knuckles. The touch is feather light, yet surprisingly real. Shouyou still feels his chest warm at the words, feels tears pricking at his eyes. She had never said that to him before. Not since his father left, “I love you, Shouyou. I’m _so sorry_.”

He wants to tell her it’s okay. It’s surprising, but hearing those words--regardless of how dream-like and _fake_ they are--loosened a knot of hate in him that Shouyou wasn’t even aware he had. He wants to tell her that it’s okay, that he loves her too.

But he finds his eyes sliding closed again, the last image before darkness consumes him is his mother’s tearstreaked face smiling at him.

* * *

 

When his eyes open for the second time, Shouyou is made aware that he is--in fact-- _not dead_ . The thought bothers him, he was so certain that he was going to die. He wonders who found him even though he knows that it was Tobio who had dialled the emergency number. He knows it was _Tobio_ who had found his body, his arm covered in blood, blade on the ground.

Shouyou wonders if he had a smile on his face.

“You’re awake.” The sudden sound startles him, though his body feels too heavy to jerk in surprise, he scans the room to find Tobio standing in the entryway, an odd expression on his face. Shouyou wants to reach out for him, to pull him close and whisper _I’m sorry_ into his skin.

Tobio seems to be on the same wavelength as him, stepping into Shouyou’s room and toward him with purposeful strides.

“You fucking--” the words tear from Tobio’s mouth and Shouyou’s eyes widen as hands reach out and grab at his clothing--a medical gown he realizes--his face now twisted into one of anger and relief, “piece of _shit_!” Shouyou hears the rawness in his soulmate’s voice. He hears how it cracks, watches as blue eyes fill with tears.

 _Tobio_ he wants to say, but his lips don’t work.

“I was so scared,” Tobio is sobbing now, Shouyou watching in horror as he witnesses his best friend--the strongest person in the _entire world_ \--fall to pieces in front of him, “I came home and you were so pale, so _cold_ ,”

 _Stop,_ Shouyou wants to shout. He doesn't want to listen to this, he doesn't want to hear what Tobio had found. How Tobio had _felt_.

The pain he had caused.

“I,” Tobio chokes on a cry, and Shouyou twitches his fingers successfully. In the next moment he has his fingers tangled in Tobio’s hair, his own cry parting his lips.

The first sound he had made since waking up.

 _I’m sorry, I’m sorry_ , he wants to press the words into Tobio’s skin, to let him know how much his best friend _means_ to him.

 _I’m sorry_ isnt enough, Shouyou realizes. He wants to promise he will never do it again, but he knows the words would be a lie.

Instead he leans forward and closes the small amount of distance between him and Tobio, brushing their lips together in a briefest of kisses.

“I can’t believe you,” Tobio speaks after a moment and Shouyou wishes he could reply, wishes he could _say something_ but Tobio is crashing into him, lips pressing into his and nothing more.

Shouyou can taste the salt on Tobio’s lips, can taste the tears on his soulmate’s skin. He hears the choked sobs breathed into his ear as he presses soft kisses on Tobio’s cheek.

 _I’m here,_ he says with a kiss under Tobio’s eyes, catching the tears against his lips.

 _I won’t leave you again_ he promises with a kiss to the corner of Tobio’s mouth.

 _I love you_ , Shouyou seals their lips together again, curling his fingers into soft black locks as a sigh parts his lips.

Tobio ends up climbing onto the bed with Shouyou, maneuvering them so that Shouyou was tucked comfortably under Tobio’s arm.

“I thought I lost you,” Tobio speaks sometime later, voice no longer sounding like it would break at any moment. Shouyou wonders how someone can repair themselves that quickly.

He wonders if he can do it too.

He wonders if he can get better.

Tobio presses a kiss on the top of his head, and Shouyou watches as his eyes slide shut until only darkness stared back at him.

But it wasn't cold. It wasn't heartless.  

It felt warm, like a blanket. Calm, _safe_.

He wonders if this is what love felt like.  

* * *

 

“Tobio we gotta _go_ ,” Shouyou finds himself jumping in front of a small clothing boutique, a grin on his face. Only a month has passed since his brush with death, and there are still many days Shouyou wishes he would have passed that day, but waking up daily to see the familiar scowl of his best friend, to be able to curl up in bed together while they studied...it helped.

“I’m not stopping you,” his best friend replies from his seat on a bench not too far from Shouyou. Where Tobio was sitting. _Still_. Despite Shouyou’s loud protests that Tobio needed to join him, “I’ll wait until you’re done.”

“No!” He’s pouting now, he knows he is. But he stomps over to Tobio either way and grabs his wrist giving one firm tug, “I _can’t_ go in alone, Tobio,” he says a little calmer now, “I want to try on the skirts.” The words are hushed, spoken as if they were a secret.

Shouyou still regards them as such.

“Okay.” Shouyou let’s go of Tobio’s wrist, smiling as his soulmate stands up, collecting their shopping bags before following after Shouyou, a fond smile on his face.

“This is going to be _great_!” Shouyou shouts as he enters the store, eyes lighting up at all the clothing he can see, “So great!”

 

“So great,” Tobio huffs into Shouyou’s neck, a grin pressing against his skin. Shouyou can only let out a soft whine as he feels Tobio’s warm hands spread across the backs of his thighs, shoving him up farther along the wall.

“I didn’t think you were going to react like _this_ ,” Shouyou laughs, managing to hide the wince that twists his features when Tobio pinches him. The jerk, “I’ll wear shorts more often, if this is your reaction.”

This time it’s Tobio’s turn to blush, and he does so _beautifully_. Before Shouyou can offer another teasing remark, Tobio’s pressing their lips together, licking into his mouth with a smoothness that only practice can accomplish.

And they had been doing a lot of practice this past month.

Shouyou barely contains a gasp, and manages _not_ to slam his head against the wall, when a polite knock at the dressing room door sounds barely 3 feet away, “Is everything fitting okay?” The polite employee asks.

Shouyou watches as Tobio opens his mouth, likely going to say some crass thing about everything fitting just _too snug_ , but Shouyou wiggles out of his soulmate’s grip and puts his feet back on the ground, grabbing one of the skirts that had just been a tad too large on his waist.

“Actually,” Shouyou says with a bright smile as he opens the door, “do you have this skirt in a size down? It was _just_ too big around my waist.”

As the employee explains that _oh of course let me show you where it is_ , Shouyou tosses a smug look over his shoulder, biting his lip to keep from laughing at Tobio’s murderous look.

 _Oops_.

* * *

 

Shouyou whines as a gentle kiss presses against his shoulder, moving in a haphazard pattern across his collarbone to his cheek.

“Stop hurting yourself,” a gruff voice says.

Shouyou wants to snap that he _wants to_ and therefore he _will_ . Because, what was the point? His soulmates weren’t looking for him. He felt the longing--on occasion--that resounded with Shouyou as _Tetsurou_ but it was always sharp and then muted. As if _Kenma_ talked him out of searching, or calmed him down.

Shouyou wants to scream, to cry, to tell Tobio that _they aren’t looking for him_ . But he would be lying. He had felt something last night. It was different than the usual longing that pulled at his heart, the longing he learned to associate with _Tetsurou_. He didn’t know what to call it. It was bitter; it tasted unsavory on his tongue. It made his stomach clench up, his body go cold.

 _Kenma_.

What was he thinking? What was this feeling? Bitterness that they were going to look for him? That couldn’t be right, he felt the sorrow under all the unreadable emotions.

He couldn’t be right.

Right?

_But what if he was right?_

What if Kenma didn't want to look for him? What if he was only pacifying Tetsurou?

What would happen when they found him?

Did he want to be found?

Was he so in love with hurting himself that he had given up on finding his soulmates?

Was he _that_ fucked up?

“Shouyou?” He blinks back into the present and Shouyou finds himself staring into navy blue eyes. For a moment his vision wavers and he blinks to clear the haze, “You’re crying again.”

“Shut up.” Shouyou grumbles, wiping at his eyes, “You’re just too ugly to look at.”

A soft kiss under his eye. Shouyou knows it tastes like salt.

“Stop.” he orders, pressing his palms against Tobio’s chest, “Stop doing _this_.”

“I love you.” spoken softly, _surely_ as lips brush against his temple.

Each time Shouyou hears them, his heart stops.

Fingers curl into the fabric stretched across Tobio’s chest, “I _know_ ,” he sobs, letting the first tears trail down his cheeks.

Calloused fingers wrap around Shouyou’s wrist and tug it up so that it rests flat against Tobio’s heart, “I have your name,” he says gently, “Right here.”

Shouyou chokes on another sob. He just wants to run away. He hates this, _this_ love he has for his best friend. He wants to defy Fate. He wants to live with Tobio, and only Tobio. He wants Tobio to be enough for him.

“In grey, I _know_ ,” he wails. He wants to carve the name out of Tobio’s skin. He wants it to be _black_ . “I know, I know, I hate it, Tobio, I _hate_ it.” Shouyou whimpers as another sob shakes his body.

He feels Tobio shift, feels soft breath exhale across his neck before tender kisses brush against his skin, trailing his nose along Shouyou’s warm skin.

“I love you,” the words burn against his skin.

Shouyou slides his hands to grab at Tobio’s shoulders, dragging his friend forward with each step he took back.

“I love you, Shouyou,” the words pierce deep, Shouyou’s steps faltering, “You’re mine.”

A sob wracks Shouyou’s body as his thighs hit the edge of the bed.

“Tobio,” he whispers and his soulmate seems to understand his plea, wrapping an arm around Shouyou’s middle as he lowered the two of them down to the bed.

“Mine,” Tobio nips at his neck as Shouyou shudders under him, “Mine,” he says again, letting out a sigh as strong fingers press against his ribs.

“Yeah,” Shouyou warbles back to him, hiccupping on a sob, “Yours. I’m yours, Tobio.” his words are sure, strong as he cries.

Shouyou isn't sure why he’s crying anymore.

Maybe because he feels loved.

No words are spoken as Tobio pulls Shouyou’s shirt off his chest, sitting up to tug his own off as well. Words aren't needed when Shouyou smoothes the tips of his fingers across the characters of his name.

 _I love you_.

The words aren’t needed, not in this moment.

Thin fingers hook under Shouyou’s chin, and with watery eyes he meets Tobio’s gaze.

Shouyou sees the galaxy reflected back at him, stars shining bright in the depths of his soulmate’s eyes.

He’s perfect.

He’s _Shouyou’s_. Only Shouyou’s. No one was going to take Tobio away from him.

Fate was letting him be selfish. Just this once.

Words aren't spoken when their lips meet, but Shouyou feels the swell of his heart, how it stutters before beating twice as strong.

 _I love you_.

He chokes on another sob, breaking the seal between their lips, but no words break their silence. Shouyou whines between his cries, pressing the pads of his fingers against Tobio’s shoulder blades.

 _Love me_.

Laughter huffs across his collarbone, but again, Tobio says nothing. Gentle kisses-- _loving kisses_ \--burn his skin, branding him for life.

As if Shouyou would ever want to forget.

Soft gasps fill the otherwise silent air around them, whimpers spilling from Shouyou’s lips when kisses turned into Tobio sucking dark marks against pale skin.

“I--!” Shouyou shatters their calm with a cry, fingers pressing hard against Tobio’s back, “ _again_ .” he begs. He wants to feel that again. Feel the rush of _love_ , the feeling of belonging to someone.

He wants to feel _wanted_.

But Tobio shakes his head, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I love you.” he says, as if he _knows_ the effect they have on Shouyou.

(of course he knows, Tobio knows Shouyou better than Shouyou knows _himself_.)

“I love you,” the words are whispered back, scared that they will lose their meaning if Shouyou speaks them any louder, “Tobio, I love you.”

Tobio just hums, ducking down as Shouyou slides his hands up Tobio’s back to tangle in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss.

Their lips are wet from their previous kisses, and Shouyou can taste the salt of his own tears. Tobio licks into his mouth, short circuiting Shouyou’s nerves.

He can feel the press of Tobio’s hips against his, and he shifts to slot them against each other better.

“Love me,” he whines when Tobio pulls away, face contorted in pain.

In indecision.

“I love you,” Tobio says and for once it’s a question. Shouyou wants to press his fingers against the seam of his soulmate’s lips, to smooth the frown from his face, “Shouyou I love you, but…” His breath rushes out in a hard exhale.

Shouyou understands.

 _But I’m not enough for you_.

He knows that’s what Tobio is thinking. He sees it in his eyes. In the way his shoulders roll forward, in how his best friend tries to make himself seem _smaller_.

“You’re enough,” Shouyou surprises both of them with his words, but he knows he won’t take them back, “Right now, you’re enough.” Tears prick at his eyes again yet Shouyou finds the strength to smile through them, “We can _be_ , right now. _Right now_. It’s perfect.”

Not for forever, they both know this.

Tobio was never meant to fall for Shouyou this way.

Maybe he doesn’t love Shouyou the way he thinks he does. Maybe Tobio will realize that he never loved Shouyou like this someday.

Maybe Shouyou will break his heart the day he meets his soulmates.

_But for now_

Shouyou smiles again and pulls Tobio down for another kiss, tears streaming down his face as laughter bubbles from between their lips.

 _this was enough_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gives u a slightly long chapter as a peace offering. im disappearing again so i can write some of this fairy au iwaoi that im in love with/for a gift exchange. SO this isnt on the backburner but i have a deadline to meet. 
> 
> also im trying to get a job (again) and i have doctors appointments coming up soon, so i wont be able to write all the time. 
> 
> come yell at me @jwritesangst or @htakahiros


	7. My Head is Such A Fucking Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobio rolls his eyes but picks up his book bag from where it had been hastily dropped on the ground, following his soulmate through the library. “You started that and you know you did,” he snaps, shouldering past a fellow student and ignoring the protest they gave. “If you didn’t wear that damn skirt…”
> 
> “You have no self control, do you Tobio?” A giggle.
> 
> Or: The Tobio POV chapter that was not planned but needed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have two jobs and i want to die. updates will be slow pls be patient with me, okay? 
> 
> Title taken from This is the Best by USS
> 
> enjoy the chapter!!!

_From: Oikawa-senpai_   
_To: Tobio  
How’s shou doing?_

 

Tobio taps against his phone, typing out a quick message in reply before he’s glancing up at the boy currently lounging across the entire couch, “Hey,” he says, standing from his position on the ground, “Oikawa wants to talk, so I’ll be outside okay?”

Shouyou stares at him, his face caught between wanting to tell Tobio _no_ and trying not to cling too tightly. Tobio knows that face. Shouyou always looks at him like that.

“I’ll be back, okay?” When his soulmate just offers a smile, Tobio steps forward and presses a lingering kiss against Shouyou’s lips. “I’ll be back, I promise. I’m just calling him.”

“Okay Tobio!” Shouyou finally chirps, his face brightening.

Tobio feels his swell and break at the same time.

With a parting smile Tobio slips from the apartment and starts down the stairs, his phone already pressed against his ear.

“Took you a while, Tobio-chan!” Oikawa’s voice sings in his ear seconds later, “I was getting worried Shou-chan wasn’t going to let you go~”

“Of course he let me leave, why wouldn’t he?”

“Tobio-chan, you and I both know how dependant Shou-chan is.” Tobio frowns at Oikawa’s words, nodding a hello at a passing woman on the stairs. “Tobio, are you in the stairwell?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Go outside. Shouyou might listen to you.”

Tobio doesn't understand why Oikawa is so untrustful of his best friend, but the frown that was on Shouyou’s face before he left makes Tobio get off the stairs and wander outside, taking a seat on a nearby bench. “Okay I’m outside.”

“Tobio,” Oikawa says again, his tone making Tobio automatically straighten his back, “You have to talk to Shouyou.”

Ah. So _that’s_ what it was going to be about today. “I will,” Tobio says lightly, watching a couple walk by with their young child. He finds himself smiling. “When Shouyou is ready. And we both know he isn’t ready for that.”

“ _Tobio_ ,” Oikawa stresses and Tobio wishes that his former senpai was sitting next to him so he could convey his thoughts with his body language instead of forcing it through words.

“I love him,” Tobio says shortly, “I love him _so much_ , Oikawa. He needs someone--”

“He needs someone to be there for him, but not you. You know it’s not you he needs.”

Laughter rips from Tobio’s throat at that, and he feels sorry for the people passing by and giving him odd looks but. “Oikawa-san,” Tobio says between bits of laughter, “I’ve been friends with Shouyou for over 10 years. And we haven’t found even _one_ of his soulmates.”

“Yes but--”

“But, nothing, Oikawa.” Tobio surges to his feet, his annoyance giving his body a need to walk around. Unwanted energy. “He needs someone to love him, and I will be that person. I will love him with all that I fucking can, don’t tell me I’m in the wrong for keeping him _safe_.” His voice breaks on the last word. He remembers the day he found Shouyou on his bed, blood on his arm and a blade on the ground next to him.

He remembers how he had stood in the doorway, just staring until reality caught up with him. How he had rushed to Shouyou’s side, pressed his fingers against his neck, hoping-- _praying_ \--that his best friend wasn't dead.

The frantic call to 119, how he lifted his shirt to check if Shouyou’s name was still grey. If he was still alive.

He remembers how Shouyou--doped up on drugs--told him he wished Tobio had let him die.

How Shouyou’s mother had kissed his cheeks and _thanked_ him for keeping her son alive. For being there when she failed him.

“Oikawa I _can’t_ let him…”

“What if he never finds his soulmates, Tobio-chan?” Oikawa’s voice washes cold over Tobio, freezing the fear in his bones. “What if he relies on you forever? What if he never gets on his own two feet?”

Tobio’s phone beeps at him, and with a quick _hold on_ , he pulls his cell from his ear, seeing a text message icon in his message bar.

 

_From: Idiot Shouyou_   
_To: Tobio_   
_….are you done talking to oikawa yet? I found a cool movie for us to watch!!!_

 

Tobio presses his phone back to his ear. “If Shouyou never finds his soulmates,” he starts, re-entering his apartment building, “I will love him until he doesn't want me anymore.”

“Tobio will you just listen--”

“Sorry senpai, but I have to go, Shouyou found a movie I want to see.” Without waiting for a reply Tobio hangs up the call and shoves it in his back pocket.

Barely a minute later he’s slipping back into the apartment, and settling on the couch with Shouyou pressed against his side.

“What did Oikawa-san want?” Shouyou asks softly during a lull in the movie.

Tobio just kisses his temple in reply, holding his best friend just a little closer.

He can’t lose him. Not again.

“Just the usual bitching about Iwaizumi. You know how it goes.”

When Shouyou just giggles and smiles up at him, meeting Tobio half way in a gentle kiss, Tobio lets his heart shatter.

He’ll protect him. No matter what. It was his responsibility.

Shouyou would never feel alone again.

* * *

 

“Get the fuck off the ground,” are the first words out of Tobio’s mouth when he enters their apartment after his classes finish. When the heap on the ground just whines, Tobio tosses a shoe at him. “Shouyou get up.”  

“Nooo,” Shouyou grumbles, rolling onto his back, “I hate college.”  

Tobio feels zero sympathy, and a quick glance at the state of the apartment--the note cards scattered everywhere--tells Tobio that Shouyou had been studying earlier in the day.

Still, Organic Chemistry wasn't going to do itself.

“Get up,” he says again, stepping over his friend on his way to the kitchen. “Did you eat today?”

It feels weird, having money to cook for the two of them, having their own kitchen. How they even got the okay to transfer out of the dorms and into an apartment close by was still unknown to Tobio. He suspects Shouyou’s mother had something to do with it. And Shouyou’s attempted suicide over _school stress_. Tobio knows it was anything but that.

He tries not to think about it.

“I ate juice.”

“You don’t _eat_ juice, Shouyou,” Tobio sighs, opening the fridge to see that _yes_ they do have food, “You just hate making food.”

“Am I still banned from sharp objects?” Shouyou’s voice sounds closer, and looking to the archway he sees his best friend running a hand through his hair, a pout on his lips, “Or can I use a knife now?”

“Butter knives only,” Tobio snaps, images flashing unwanted in his mind. Shit, he isn’t even hungry anymore.

Fuck.

“Do you want me to make you something?” he asks anyways, fighting the urge to throw up. To hug Shouyou to his chest and never let him leave. That day was _too close_ for comfort. Shouyou had never tried to kill himself before, never tried to leave him.

He promised Tobio once--long ago as children--that he would never leave.

That day--so long ago and yet still fresh in his mind--he almost lost his best friend.

“No, I’m not hungry, it’s okay!”

A glance out of the corner of his eyes told Tobio that Shouyou was giving him that _stupid ass_ smile again.

As if he could lie to Tobio after all these years.

“What do you want to eat, I’m making you food, idiot. You haven’t eaten.”

“Ah….um…” Shouyou fidgets with his fingers for a moment, “Can I have some tamago kake gohan?

“Sure.” Tobio thinks about how they need to buy more rice soon, as he forgot how _often_ they ate rice and only rice when exam season rolls around, “Go study, I’ll bring it to you when it’s done.”

“Okay!” Shouyou visibly brightens.

He almost lost that smile.

Tobio’s stomach clenches. Luckily Shouyou has already vanished back into the living room.

* * *

 

There are some things Shouyou does that makes Tobio’s mouth go dry. Like when he stretches and his shirt rides up and shows smooth pale skin. Or when he steals one of Tobio’s shirts and it goes to his knees.

Tobio can think of many things that Shouyou does without knowing that makes Tobio want to run his hands all over his soulmate’s body and cherish him.

But there is _one_ thing that Shouyou does with him in mind, and it drives Tobio up the fucking wall.

“Going out today?” he asks, trying to focus on the text in front of him. Ironically it’s about the Pavlov Theory. He wonders if Shouyou has conditioned him.

“Yeah, in a bit,” Shouyou replies easily. By his tone, Tobio knows that today is a _good_ day, in the grand scheme of things, and lets himself look up to stare at his best friend. He drinks in the sight of Shouyou’s slim body, the way the collar of his pink knit sweater is more to one side than the other--showing milky skin and the smooth slope of his collarbone. “You okay Tobio?”

Tobio _knows_ Shouyou knows what he’s doing. In that sweater, in how it’s tucked into his high waisted floral skirt. Shouyou _knows_ how these things effect Tobio, and he does them anyways.

A taunt. A dare.

A plea.

Tobio isn’t sure which, but he knows what his body is screaming for.

“Where are you going?” he asks calmly.

_Skinner, Cattell, Asch._

“Library. I need to check out this damn O-Chem book before I go crazy.” Shouyou runs his fingers through his hair. “Want to come?”

Tobio’s entire body freezes for a split second before his brain catches the context of Shouyou’s words. He _hates_ skirts. “I’m studying.” The words sound lame, even to his ears.

_Freud, Bandura, Pavlov._

“And I’m going to a library. Where you can _also_ study.” Dammit Tobio can’t find any flaw in that logic.

Fuck Shouyou and his pretty little skirts. He was _weak_ , why did his best friend have to do this to him?

“Go alone.”

“Tobio, you’re coming with me.”

Tobio looks up and stares at the skirt. How the flowers pop out against the black background, which make his fair skin seem even more pale. He wants to kiss at that fair skin, to suck on it until it’s a deep red color and--

He needs a better list of psychologists, dammit.

“I don’t want to fucking get up, go alone Shouyou.”

“No,” the skirt says, “come with me.”

He’s positive this is what hell feels like.

“Come with me, Tobio,” the skirt begs him, “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He snaps his textbook shut and grabs his book bag. “I hate you.”

Shouyou--and the skirt--only shout their happiness, bouncing out of the room.

* * *

 

“You told me you were going to be good,” Tobio all but snarls, glaring at Shouyou. “You told me you were going to be _good_.”

“I _know_ ,” Shouyou whimpers, covering his mouth when Tobio just continues to glare at him, “I know, but it was too tempting, Tobio _please_.”

Tobio kisses the patch of skin under his lips, sucking on it softly. He hears a muffled whine and smiles, nipping at flesh before fixing Shouyou with a sharp look.

They had been doing well at the library. Shouyou had got the book he needed, and Tobio had studied. The skirt had been silent. And then Shouyou’s foot started to trail up his leg. Which ended up in his lap. Pressed against his crotch.

It had all gone downhill from there.

And now they were here. With Shouyou pressed against a bookshelf in the back of the library and Tobio kneeling between his spread legs.

 _God_ , Shouyou was infuriating.

“Too loud,” Tobio says, fingers pushing fabric up until it bunches at Shouyou’s hips. “You lied to me.”

“Tobio,” Shouyou whines behind his hands, eyes wide and glassy. A quick glance down shows that his soulmate is already hard in his underwear, a small damp spot visible. “Please. _Please._ I need….”

Tobio just ducks his head back down and kisses at the insides of Shouyou’s thighs, tongue tracing raised scars while his hands rub soothing circles against Shouyou’s hip bones.

 _I love you_ his actions say as he sucks dark marks into pale flesh.

 _I love you_ his fingers say, slipping into Shouyou’s underwear, wrapping around his erection loosely.

 _Mine_. His mouth on Shouyou’s clothed cock, sucking on it until the fabric is wet and clinging to every inch of Shouyou’s groin.

 _Mine_ as he pulls Shouyou’s panties down, licking the tip slowly.

“Tobio, Tobio,” Shouyou chants, hands flying from his mouth to tangle in his hair. Tobio growls low in his throat as Shouyou’s cock slides between his lips, “Tobio _yes_ , god... _yes_.”

Looking up, Tobio sees the pale arch of Shouyou’s neck, how his head is thrown back against the bookcase.

“Be quiet.” His voice is rough as he pulls on Shouyou’s cock, pausing to suck at the tip just a moment longer. “Someone will hear you.” Tobio wraps his fingers around the base, tightening just enough to make Shouyou’s mouth fall open in a silent gasp.

“S-shit…”

“You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?” His words are muffled against Shouyou’s stomach as Tobio raises onto his knees, nuzzling the soft fabric. “You fucking--”

“I love you,” Shouyou cuts him off, his words babbled, a mess.

Tobio got him this way. It was Tobio who placed the blush on his cheeks, the glassy look in his eyes. It was _Tobio_ who got Shouyou hard, leaking at the tip. He did all of this.

He loves it.

“You’re mine, Shouyou.” His grip loosens enough to pump his hand up and down, thumbing across the slit to smear precum down Shouyou’s shaft. “Do you want  me to make you feel good?”

Shouyou nods in rapid succession, groaning when Tobio just removes his hand entirely and gets to his feet. “Wai--”

He remembers Shouyou on his bed, cold and lifeless. Pulse too quick too faint. He remembers how he cried against his chest until the paramedics arrived and tore him from Tobio’s grip.

_Mine. Mine all mine. Only mine._

“I didn’t hear you,” he says low, breath brushing against Shouyou’s ear. “Did you want me to make you feel good?”

“Please.”

“Are you going to be quiet for me?”

“Yes.” Tobio feels Shouyou slip his hands under his shirt, feels the warm press of palms against his back. “Yes I’ll be good.”

A soft kiss to the corner of Shouyou’s mouth. “Promise?” His hand is already creeping down his the button of his jeans, undoing it and pulling down the fly.

“Yes, I promise. _Tobio_ , I promised, please….” Nails are digging into his back now, and Shouyou’s hips grind against his.

Tobio barely manages to muffle the groan that spills from his lips at the contact.

“If you break that promise,” he warns against Shouyou’s neck, pushing his boxers down so he can grip his cock and pull it out, “We’re gonna get caught.”

Shouyou rolls his hips again, and this time Tobio catches one of them in his hand, halting the movement as he shoves his pants and boxers  to his thighs.

“Do you understand, Shouyou?” He feels the nod, the way Shouyou’s body tenses as Tobio rocks rolls his hips against Shouyou’s, their erections bumping together. “Shit.”

His free hand wraps around both of their cocks, pumping them together quickly and pausing only to wipe the precum off the tip before resuming his pace.

Shouyou shudders against him, moans muffled against Tobio’s shoulder. After a few minutes of them getting absolutely nowhere, Tobio pulls his hand away and grips Shouyou’s other hip, pressing him harder against the bookcase. “Jump,” he huffs out, grip tightening.

No questions pass through Shouyou’s lips, just jumping up enough for Tobio to lift him a few feet off the ground. Shouyou gets the idea and locks his ankles around Tobio’s back, pressing him closer. “Should have done this in the first place,” Shouyou breathes against Tobio’s lips, a grin on his face.

Tobio just pecks at his nose, rolling their hips together and watching as the grin slips from Shouyou’s face.

“Shut the fuck up and enjoy this, asshole,” Tobio grumps back, rocking his hips forward and muffling his curses against Shouyou’s shoulder.

“So good _Tobio_ ,” Shouyou babbles, hips jerking to meet Tobio’s movements. “Please, oh god--fuck--don’t stop, _please_.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Tobio growls, rolling his hips slowly and snorting when Shouyou whines into Tobio’s ear. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“Haaa,” Shouyou gasps as one of Tobio’s hands slide from his hip and under his shirt. “Why me? I didn’t start-- _ah!_ \--this.”

Tobio rubs his thumb over Shouyou’s nipple, marveling in the high keen that rips from Shouyou’s throat. He does it again, shoving his hips forward and even though the sound that echoes around them is _too loud_ , Tobio takes pleasure in the fact that he was the one who got Shouyou to this state.

This babbling flushed mess.

He did it. It was all _him_.

“C-close,” Shouyou gasps soon after, hips rolling forward in time to Tobio. “Don’t stop, fuck yes. Yes…” Nails dig into Tobio’s back as Shouyou’s body tenses as his orgasm slams into him.

Tobio follows soon after, a sort of growl ripping from his throat, his grip on Shouyou’s thigh tightening until Tobio is certain a bruise will form.

They stay pressed against the bookcase in the back of the library for a moment, panting against each others skin before Tobio grips Shouyou’s other hip and guides him down to the ground.

“Gross,” Shouyou complains when he looks down to see cum stains on his skirt. “I just _got_ this too.”

Tobio scowls at him as he wipes his hand against his jeans before pulling them back up and buttoning them, “That’s not my fucking problem. You knew this was going to happen.”

His best friend only lets out soft laughter and bends down to pull his panties up, smoothing his skirt down as best he can. “We have to leave. Right now.”

“What?” Tobio looks around, seeing no one near them nor does he hear anything that would give away that someone was nearby. “We just got here. You said you were going to let me study.”

Shouyou picks up his newly acquired book. “Yeah well that was before you thought it was a good idea to rough me up in the back of the library and get semen on my _skirt_.”  

Tobio rolls his eyes but picks up his book bag from where it had been hastily dropped on the ground, following his soulmate through the library. “You started that and you _know_ you did,” he snaps, shouldering past a fellow student and ignoring the protest they gave. “If you didn’t wear that damn skirt…”

“You have no self control, do you Tobio?” A giggle.

He growls, reaching out to grab Shouyou’s shoulder and spin him around, glaring down at him. “Knock it off, Shouyou,” he warns. But Shouyou just shrugs out of his grip and continues walking away.

Tobio stares after him before sighing and following him once more.

* * *

 

He’s barely finished his first week free of exams and _school_ and Tobio feels like his world has just been turned upside down.

 _“My name is Kozume Kenma and I think you’re friends with my soulmate_ . _”_

Kenma.

He could never forget the name. How Shouyou would cry in the middle of the night, clinging to _him_ about how he was so alone. How Tobio built up a world where he was Shouyou’s one and only soulmate. That he would keep him safe. That they were _okay_ like this.

_“I think you’re friends with my soulmate.”_

Words that haunt him, even days later. Words that caused him to call Oikawa, panic and fear in his voice.

Now he’s standing in front of his former senpai’s apartment, wondering if he was really welcome here. If Oikawa would yell at him, tell him _I told you so_. Or if Oikawa would wrap Tobio in his arms and tell him it would be okay.

Tobio isn’t sure which he needs more.

He’s not sure of a lot of things right about now.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” The voice startles Tobio from his thoughts, and he blinks to find that in the doorway stands Iwaizumi.

“Yes?” Tobio answers slowly, catching a glimpse of Iwaizumi’s soulmate mark on his shoulder.

 _Tooru_ it reads, ink black against his tanned skin.

“Come inside, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi says to him before turning around and padding into the apartment. Tobio slips inside, a soft _sorry for the intrusion_ slipping past his lips as he toes off his shoes.

“Tobio-chan?” he hears Oikawa call for him, and seconds later sees Oikawa appear from where Tobio is assuming the kitchen is. Tobio opens his mouth to return his greetings, but Oikawa just shuffles towards him, a small smile on his face. “Come here, Tobio.”

He slips on the hardwood floor of Oikawa’s apartment, falling into Oikawa’s waiting arms with a broken sound. Oikawa just wraps his arms around Tobio and slowly lowers them to the ground.

“It’s okay, Tobio,” Oikawa’s words are soft against his temple, the softest press of lips remaining there for a moment as Tobio shudders in Oikawa’s grip. “You’re going to be okay, stop shaking.”

“Shut up,” Tobio groans into Oikawa’s shoulder. “Stop talking. Just…”

“I got you,” Oikawa tells him, and Tobio falls silent, letting silence of the apartment swallow him whole.

It feels homey in here. Warm. Pictures hang on beige walls, and Tobio can hear music drifting from one of the rooms down the hall. To the left there is a nicely sized television, a couch not too far away from that. Tobio spies a dying plant on the windowsill and thinks how Shouyou would likely cry at the mistreatment of such a wonderful organism.

“Oikawa?” Tobio says after some time, tucking his face in the other’s shoulder. “You were right. I’m not the one he needs.”

Soft laughter sounds from behind him, Oikawa’s shoulders shaking ever so slightly. “It will be okay, Tobio-chan.” Oikawa replies, “I know it.”

Silence falls around them again, Tobio taking solace in the fact that for once _he’s_ being the one comforted, instead of being the one who comforts.

“It’s nice that you made it to the ground, where you belong, but get off the floor Tooru.” Tobio blinks his eyes open, seeing Iwaizumi standing a few feet from where they sit crumpled on the ground, a fond scowl on his face. He meets Tobio’s eye and nods once.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa releases Tobio immediately--pausing to pat his head--before he scrambling up. “Iwa-chan our _son_ is hurting, you have to help me!”

“Not your son,” Tobio grumbles as he picks himself up off the ground.

“He’s not my son,” Iwaizumi says in a similar tone.

Oikawa throws up his hands, a cry on his lips. “Like father like son!” he exclaims. Tobio just frowns at him.

Oikawa never changes.

Iwaizumi gives Oikawa a long look before Tobio catches his stare again, “Do you want something to drink? Did Tooru tell you to sit down?” Tobio shakes his head, “Sit down, Kageyama. You in town for a while?”

Tobio does as Iwaizumi says, he always respected Iwaizumi more than he did Oikawa anyways, listening to his two senpai bicker in the kitchen.

Would Shouyou and _Kenma_ do that too? Would Shouyou leave him for his soulmates? Leave Tobio all alone with actions he doesn't understand why he does them, and no person to constantly comfort?

Was he going to stoop low enough to keep happiness from Shouyou? Was he _that_ selfish?

“You’re overthinking.” A mug of what smells like tea is shoved into his face. “It’s herbal. Raspberry.” Tobio nods and watches as Oikawa settles next to him on the couch. Moments later Iwazumi sits on the single recliner chair in the room.

For a moment Tobio thinks _they are like my parents_ but shakes the thought away with a mental smile. His parents were his parents. Oikawa and Iwaizumi were like his mentors.

“What are you scared about Tobio?” Oikawa breaks the silence, and Tobio remembers that it was Oikawa who steered him in the direction of psychology, as he was going through the major himself.

“Of Shouyou leaving me,” he answers truthfully. “Of being alone. Without him.”

Iwazumi opens his mouth, but Oikawa shakes his head. Tobio wants to know what was going to be said.

“You love him, don’t you?”

“Of course.” There is no hesitation in his answer.

Oikawa presses his lips into a thin line, but before he can say something, Iwaizumi beats him, “But not like I love Tooru, right?”

“No I love him like you love your soulmate.” Tobio is confused. He loves Shouyou with every fiber of his being, and while he knew it wasn't _enough_ , that something wasn't _right_ , it didn’t make it any less true. “I love him with everything I can.”

An odd look crosses Oikawa’s face, but Tobio pays it no mind as he takes a sip of his tea, a pleased hum vibrating from throat. It was tangy yet sweet. Oikawa had used honey to sweeten it.

“I’ll ask again, Tobio-chan, but could you love Shou-chan like this forever if he never found his soulmates?”

He blinks, thinking back to that conversation months ago. “I could,” he answers slowly, lowering his mug to press against his thigh, letting the heat seep through his jeans, “but...it doesn't seem right?”

Two pairs of eyes stare at him, and Tobio gets the feeling that he’s being dissected.

“Do you love him?” These questions are getting redundant, honestly.

“Yes.” Tobio answers without question.

“But are you _in_ love with him?” Iwaizumi butts in.

Tobio falls silent for the briefest of seconds. “Yes?” Iwaizumi meets his gaze and Tobio frowns at him. “I’m not sure what the fuck that means.”

“Now Tobio, you don’t need to curse,” Oikawa chides. Tobio opts to ignore him.

“When he kisses your cheek, does your heart race?” (not sure who says this yet)

Tobio shakes his head.

“If he makes breakfast and burns it, would you eat it anyways?”

“Of course not,” Tobio retorts, a wrinkle on his nose, “I would remake it.”

“Do you like when Shouyou wears your shirts?” Oikawa says slyly. Tobio thinks about pouring his tea on his head.

“Of course.” He doesn't see why he _wouldn't_ enjoy that. “It’s hot? Is there something wrong with that?”

 _Is there something wrong with me?_ He wants to ask.

“If you give Shouyou his soulmate’s number, what are you scared of? That Shouyou will stop loving you?”

“Leaving me, I fucking said that at the beginning.” Maybe going to Oikawa for help wasn't the smartest idea he has had.

“Shut up, Tobio. So vulgar.”

“Shit,” Iwaizumi groans, standing from his chair and taking Oikawa’s mug from his hands, “Tooru stop being an asshole.” He looks at Tobio, “How do you feel about Shouyou? Describe it.”

“No, _Hajime_ \--”

“Shut up, Tooru, and let the kid explain his shit.” A small smile is tossed his way before Iwaizumi vanishes to the kitchen, the sound of water running following soon after.

Tobio knows Oikawa is watching him; he can see it out of the corner of his eye. But he ignores his senpai in favor of  describing the right words for his love for Shouyou. Not the words he knows he should say, but the words he _knows_ he feels.

“Steady,” Tobio says at last, turning to meet Oikawa’s stare. “My love for him feels steady. Not in the sense that _we_ are steady--because that is the last thing we are together--but my love for him never wavers. It’s there, in everything he does.” Tobio wants to shut up, honestly. Wants to not talk about this, about his deepest feelings.

To Oikawa of all people. The person who in his first year of junior high, tried to punch him. It took Iwaizumi’s shouts of alarm and Tobio’s confused stare to stop the _then_ obnoxious Oikawa.

“I want him to be steady,” Tobio continues, staring at the mug in his hands. “I want him to stand on his own fucking two feet and I’m _so fucking terrified_ that he will fall if I try to let him. That if I give him Kenma’s number, he will try to stand up and he will _fall_.” A soft snort, “I hate it more in the daydreams where he succeeds and leaves me.”

“I want him happy.” Tobio looks up to the ceiling, wondering what he could have done in another life to warrant this kind of confusion in this one, “Why can’t I be the only one to make him happy?”

“Do you need a hug?” Oikawa mocks, a teasing smile on his face. A grin breaks out on Tobio’s face.

He was used to this banter. The sarcasm between them, the punches--not with fists but _words_. How Iwaizumi would have to break them up in high school because Oikawa was a bad influence. Funnily enough, Tobio took more from Iwaizumi than he ever did from the brat he called his team captain.

Again the thought runs through his mind that Oikawa and Iwaizumi are like his parents.

“Should I give him Kenma’s number?” Tobio says instead of rising to Oikawa’s bait.

“Do you want to see him stand on his own two feet? No matter how scary it is?” Tobio says nothing. “Do you love him. Regardless of _how_ you love him, do you at least love him enough to let him _try_ to find his place?”

Tobio says nothing, but gives a small nod of his head.

“You sound like Shou-chan’s parent more than anything,” Oikawa comments lightly, reaching over to plucking Tobio’s mug from his hands. Tobio wrinkles his nose, thinking about Shouyou’s parents.

How _awful_ they were to their son, how they abandoned him. How his mother still wouldn’t talk to him. He thinks about the single text message he sent her--a simple _he’s doesn’t need you_ \--and the single reply of _thank you_.

He would never be like Shouyou’s parents. He was better than them. More supportive, more loving. More caring then they would ever be.

“Though that would be weird if Shou-chan was your child because you _do_ often have se--”

A pained expression crosses Tobio’s face. “Stop that,” he interrupts, not willing to hear the end of that statement.

“You’re disgusting, Tooru,” Iwaizumi sighs as he appears from the kitchen, “stop torturing Kageyama, will you?”

“Never,” Tooru sniffs.

Tobio ignores how Iwaizumi just sighs again and kisses Tooru’s temple, lips moving in a series of words that Tobio couldn’t understand. But when Oikawa smiles--bright and _happy_ \--Tobio thinks he can guess the meaning.

“Oh!” Oikawa swats his soulmate away, laughing when Iwaizumi is smacked in the cheek, “Tobio-chan! About Shou-chan and your love! It makes perfect sense if you think about it, I mean it would explain so _much_ , and I found in my studies that it’s much more common than people let on, so frankly speaking there is nothing wrong with you. In fact, you are perfectly happy and whole the way you are with that singular name--”

“Tooru, you’re rambling.” Oikawa flushes at the words, coughing lightly into his fist to collect himself.

“Tobio, you more likely than not are what my field of study calls _aromantic_.”

He’s lost. Definitely lost.

“What? What the _fuck_ is that?”

“An aromantic person is someone who experiences little or _no_ romantic attraction to others. Where romantic people have an emotional need to be with another person _romantically_ , aromantics are often satisfied with friendships and other non-romantic relationships.”

Tobio was fairly certain that Iwaizumi was fighting the urge to hit Oikawa over the head, and Tobio was _really_ certain that the two of them had matching expressions of _what the fuck_?

“Can we maybe use words I can fucking understand?” Tobio groans, wondering if going home and looking up the word himself would be more beneficial to understand.

“Not all of us can speak your language, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi comments before moving to resettle in the chair he had vacated minutes earlier.

“How can I not want to be in a romantic relationship with Shouyou and yet _still_ want to,” Tobio stops, not sure if he should reveal that more _intimate_ part of his life.

“Have sex with him?” Oikawa helpfully supplies, “Well Tobio-chan, romantic and sexual attractions are not _linked_. Just because you want to have sex doesn't mean you want to marry them, correct? How else would people have one night stands?”

“But I love him?”

“He’s not saying you don’t,” Iwaizumi interjects, a hand running through his hair, “It just means you don’t love him like Tooru and I love each other.”

 _But I do_ , Tobio wants to say.

“You don’t want to be with him for every step he takes forward, to support him forever. You’re _prepared_ for it, but ultimately you wish for Shou-chan to stand on his own two feet. You wish for a day when you both can look back and see how far Shouyou has made it on his _own_.”

Tobio can’t deny that.

“That might explain why you inherently know that you’re love wasn't the one he _needed_ ,” Iwaizumi goes on to say, “Because you were forcing yourself to love in a way you knew you couldn’t.”

 _Aromantic_. The word rolls in Tobio’s head, his lips silently moving to pronounce the word, to get a feel for it.

It _feels_ correct, but Tobio isn’t ready to accept the word as _his_ just yet.

Not yet.

Not until….not until he could talk to Shouyou about it. Not until he felt comfortable enough with himself to talk _them_ out. And, fuck, they had a lot of talking to do.

With a loud sigh, Oikawa peels himself from the couch and turns to stare at Tobio, brown eyes wide with excitement. “Well, now that _that’s_ done,” Tobio doesn't miss the way Iwaizumi stiffens and shifts ever so slightly, “Tobio-chan, do you want to marathon the _Alien vs Predator_ series with me?”

“Absolutely not.” Not a second of hesitation passes Tobio’s mind.

Oikawa yelps, affronted. Iwaizumi snorts out a laugh.

Though a scowl is present on his face the entire time Oikawa flints about the room, praising how _amazing_ and _breathtaking_ these movies were (and Tobio knew first hand they were not any of those adjectives Oikawa used) he couldn’t help but relax in the presence of his friends.

Oikawa was right. Everything was going to be okay.

He just had to give it time.

* * *

 

_To: Kozume-san_   
_From: Tobio_   
_Don’t hurt him_

_To: Tobio_   
_From: Kozume-san_   
_I would rather die, Kageyama-san. If at any point myself or Tetsurou hurt Shouyou, please feel free to kill us._

 

Tobio huffed a laugh, shaking his head. Maybe Shouyou would be alright. Tobio just had to let him take the first step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scream at me on tumblr @katsukx and @jwritesangst
> 
> update on jobs/my life: i have 2 (as u saw before) and work between 40-60 hours a week. on top of that i currently dont have a car bc my trasmission is dead (maybe). AND ON TOP OF THAT, i'm about to be working on the Haikyuu Big Bang with my friend (and someone yall likely kno if you read my Pastel Punk AU shit) @givemethedio. Gio is my partner in crime, other than Becca of course. Honestly both of them are FUCKING ENABLERS. Becca creates entire worlds with me, while gio cries over them and creates ART for them. If you have not already, do check out Gio's art in GENERAL, b/c its flawless.


	8. We Should Be Lovers Instead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From: Kenma  
> To: Shouyou
> 
> It’s nice to finally meet you, Shouyou. I’ve been looking for you for years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //RU NS REALLY QUICK AWAY FROM ALL THE COMMENTS THAT ASKED ME WHEN I WS GONNA UPDATE
> 
> Chapter Title from Jenny by Studio Killers

Kenma has taken to not wearing the multitude of bracelets that once adorned his wrist in a stand that if people could see his ink, maybe they would be able to help him find _Shouyou_. He had even swallowed his pride--and anxiety--and started to ask people if they happened to know anyone of the same name.

The responses he gets makes him lose hope in all of humanity:

“Why do you have two names?”

“Only sluts have two names, so you’re a stripper right?” (Kenma thinks that this is his personal favorite.)

“Can you speak louder?”

“I don’t understand what that says.”

“You speak too softly.”

“Come again?”

“Two names? How rare! You’re very lucky.”

“Why are you looking for them?”

“Are they missing?”

“You’re in your 20’s and _still_ haven’t found your soulmate?”

“You must be a shitty soulmate.”

“Maybe he doesn’t _want_ you.”

Yeah, Kenma IS definitely losing faith in humanity as a whole.

* * *

 

Upon reaching the comfort of his apartment, Kenma immediately goes into his room, faceplanting onto the bed.

He grabs at the pillow resting just above his head and barely manages to press his face into the soft plush before he lets out a scream.It’s odd, feeling this worked up over something. Of course, it’s not the first time it had happened, but Kenma is fairly certain that he can count on one hand the number of times he had ever felt so _angry_. So upset, so...so _lost_. The only thing he can remember is the day he had slammed the door in Tetsurou’s face all those years ago.

Except unlike back then, Kenma isn’t trying to run away from his soulmate. He’s attempting to run to them. Somehow, the resulting emotions feel the exact same way.

Kenma screams into the pillow again, kicking his legs against the mattress for good measure. It feels good to scream, surprisingly. He briefly thinks that he should do this more often, but it’s just as quickly dismissed because Kenma really can’t see himself getting so worked up over anything else anytime soon.

“You feel different,” Tetsurou’s voice sounds from the doorway. Kenma rolls onto his back, his groan filling the room without his pillow to muffle the sound. “That’s rare.”

“Oh.” Kenma sounds disinterested as always, turning his head to stare at his best friend as Tetsurou sits on the edge of his bed. “Did you not hear me scream?” He could have sworn he had seen Tetsurou’s shoes when he came home, but Kenma also hasn’t been paying that close of attention.

“I did.”

“Then don’t say stupid things.” Kenma holds Tetsurou’s gaze for a second longer before letting it drift up to the ceiling. “How are they today?”

It takes a second for Tetsurou to respond. “Alright,” he says slowly. “I think they’re okay right now. You on the other hand...” Tetsurou stops himself with a soft laugh and Kenma frowns at the ceiling.

“I hate people,” he states with a sort of finality that surprises even himself.

“I’m aware. What happened, though?"

Kenma barely gets out a small sigh before Tetsurou is pressing a kiss against his clothed shoulder, small words of praise falling from his lips. Kenma makes out the words I love you and he lets a small smile pull his lips up, turning to meet Tetsurou’s copper gaze.

“I took off my bracelets,” Kenma starts slowly. “I wanted to find Shouyou.” The confession makes his chest feel light, as if it was a heavy burden to keep silent about.

Tetsurou links their fingers together, the gentle pressure giving Kenma the needed confidence boost to continue talking.

“And I realized why I hid the names,” Kenma recalls the names people had called him, the way their lips had curled in disgust at seeing two names in _black_. “I thought...I thought people would be more accepting. I thought he would have found us by now.”

Kenma doesn’t realize that he is crying until Tetsurou is thumbing away his stray tears, a soft smile stretching his lips. “It’s okay,” Tetsurou’s words sooth Kenma’s nerves. “It’s okay, Kenma.”

“Okay.” It’s difficult to form the words on his tongue, to push them past his lips. This time, though, he can feel the hot tears sliding down his face. “Okay,” he says again, laughing as he wipes at his eyes. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

Tetsurou kisses him, and Kenma pretends he doesn’t taste the salt on their lips.

It was going to be okay.

* * *

 

Kenma still doesn’t understand how his soulmate could evade him for so long. He’s 22 years old and has only managed to find _one_ of his soulmates. Sometimes Kenma thinks it’s amazing that he found Tetsurou so early on in life, how he is so lucky to have his best friend be his soulmate (or his soulmate be his best friend, he isn't entirely sure how they defined each other). But then he always remembered: at least he had Tetsurou, Shouyou had neither of them.

Why couldn’t he find them?

Does Shouyou not want to see them?

“What if they don’t live in Tokyo?” Tetsurou says one day, startling Kenma from his downward spiraling thoughts. “That would honestly make a lot of sense, you know? We never met them when we went through school, and we haven’t run into them at Todai.”

Kenma holds back an annoyed groan, opting to kick his legs against the mattress slowly. He’s not going to look like he is throwing a tantrum. He is an _adult_. “I feel like I’m the only one looking,” he complains instead, a frown on his lips. “Why don’t you show off your ink too?”

“Want me dropping my pants every time I have to explain that I’m looking for my soulmate?” Tetsurou fires back with ease, and Kenma sees the error in his ways. Instead of admitting he was wrong, he just averts his gaze, ignoring the heat on his cheeks. “I mean, I guess I _could_ , but sexual indecency isn’t really my cup of tea. Technically, for you, I _guess_ \--”

Kenma holds up a hand. “Please stop talking, I got it.”

Thankfully Tetsurou lets the subject drop, and the two of them resume their studies once more.

Every so often Kenma would turn the page, the sounds of paper sliding past each other echoing in their small apartment.

Tetsurou clicks his pen, jots a few notes, then clicks it closed.

The sound repeats, mumbled words falling from their lips every so often.

Then Kenma says, “If they don’t live in Tokyo, how should we find them?”

A pen click. Then another. “Social media could work.”

Kenma doesn’t even have to look up to know that Tetsurou has shrugged, but he does so anyways, catching the end of his best friend’s smile.

“Absolutely not.” Blond hair falls into Kenma’s face as he shakes his head, and he flicks it away with disinterest. “I’m sure there are many _Shouyou’s_ in the world, and I’m not keen on having to talk to all of them.”

Tetsurou makes a vague humming sound and clicks his pen again.

Kenma thinks about throwing the pen across the room.

“We’ll find him, Kenma. I know you’re worried.”

“Am not.” The retort falls from his lips too quick and Kenma masks his lie by turning the page, keeping his eyes on the words in front of him. “I’m concerned.” He says the words carefully, softly even though he was the only sound that could be heard in the room. He feels exposed.“They seem to have these...episodes that you feel and it makes you feel bad.” Kenma wants to stop talking now. “I don’t want both of you hurting.” He falls silent after that, not daring to look up from his textbook. The heavy weight of Tetsurou’s stare settles against his chest, but Kenma doesn’t raise his eyes.

“I love you too, Kenma.”

* * *

 

It feels nice; going to the gym after a long, hard semester at school.

Working out, going for a swim, running on the treadmill. It is relaxing.

But the act of _going_ to the gym is still something that Kenma hates, no matter how much he tells himself that he loves being there.

Kenma figures it’s something ingrained in his body, this hatred of driving to the gym. He knows that once he’s there, he has no issues working out. It’s getting there that is the only problem.

While it’s been a while since Kenma’s last appearance at the gym--college severely cut back on his relaxing swim time--Kenma can never remember his gym being so quiet. A few other college kids are on the other side of the building, lifting weights and talking, while a few older folk are running on treadmills.

Kenma bypasses the treadmills, nodding in greeting to the ladies who wave at him, and heads down a small hall to the indoor swimming pool. He pauses at the edge of the hallway and takes a deep breath, letting the chlorine smell wash over him.

 _Splash_.

Eyes slowly blink open as Kenma takes notice of a dark haired figured cutting seamlessly through the water.

Ethereal.

Padding softly to the edge of the pool, Kenma kicks off his shoes and sits down, letting his toes dip into the cool water below him. Silence settles around him as Kenma watches the dark haired figure slide through the water.

As if he belonged there.

“Can I help you?”

Kenma blinks out of his daze, finding said figure is now standing in the water just a few feet away from him, “No,” he answers slowly, tongue feeling thick in his mouth. He lets his eyes skim over the stranger, taking note of his soulmate mark just above where his heart would be. “I was watching you swim.”

“Oh.” Kenma lets himself focus on the stranger, watching a furrow appear between his brows. “Thanks? I guess?”

Kenma just shrugs, unsure if he should say anything else to continue the conversation. Should he apologize for being creepy? Did the raven boy think he was being creepy? Would Kenma make the entire situation _more_ creepy by saying he was sorry for being creepy?

“Did you swim for school?” Kenma ends up asking and immediately wants to just submerge himself in water and never come up for air.

“Uh, no? I played volleyball in high school.”

The words pique Kenma’s interest and the desire to drown himself is overshadowed by his curiosity.

“I did as well,” he says, head tilting to the side, “What prefecture?” Maybe they had played against each other.

“Miyagi. Aoba Jousai High.”

Kenma nods, eyes focused on the water rippling around his feet. “I know of that school. A powerhouse,” he says, smiling to himself as he remembers how Tetsurou had complained that they never got to play against the school during their high school years. “There was some concern that it was going to slip when their 3rd-year setter Oikawa left, but,” Kenma catches the guarded gaze of the stranger. “Oh. I went to Nekoma, in Tokyo.”

An odd expression--it reminds Kenma of a grimace more than anything--spreads across the stranger’s face. He drops his gaze to the man’s chest and freezes.

Kenma is unaware that he has slipped into the water and taken a step forward until the stranger steps back.

 _Shouyou._  

He would recognize those kanji anywhere. The only difference is that the name is _grey_.

_Hinata Shouyou._

“Hey, you alright?” the stranger’s voice sounds far away, like water was in Kenma’s ears. Distant. “You look pretty pale right now.”

Kenma drags himself back to the present and staggers backward until his back hits the rough stone of the pool wall. “Do you know who your soulmate is?” he asks, voice shaking.

“What--”

Kenma sticks out his wrist, showing the matching black kanji of Shouyou’s name.

* * *

 

“I found him,” Kenma breathes against Tetsurou’s lips as soon as he returns home, the smell of chlorine lingering on his skin. “I found _Shouyou_.”

He wants to cry.

Tetsurou just wraps his arms around Kenma’s waist and pulls him closer, laughing against Kenma’s lips. “How?” he asks, “how did you?” Their foreheads knock together gently, Tetsurou’s copper eyes searching Kenma’s face.

Kenma can only smile, laughter building in his chest. Words escape him, all he can feel is the light in his chest, the pure joy that Shouyou is found. Theirs.

Safe.

“You’re magical,” Tetsurou presses the words against Kenma’s cheek, “just... _magical_.”

He lets those words wash over him, lets them fill him with a freeing sort of happiness that Kenma had never felt before. Is this what it felt to be free? To feel complete?

“I met his platonic soulmate,” Kenma explains as Tetsurou peppers his face with kisses. He swats his best friend away and takes a step back, the free feeling in his blood giving him a restless energy, “I met him at the gym. Shouyou...he lives in Miyagi,” Kenma’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, “He goes to college up there, he’s a year younger than me. He’s ginger, with these _beautiful_ amber eyes and--”

Tetsurou cuts off his rant with a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Stop talking,” he says with a small laugh. It’s the first time Kenma has heard those words, the first time he’s talked so much about a topic--outside of his studies--that warrants _Tetsurou_ telling him to quiet down. “I got it, he’s perfect.”

Kenma nods, trying to school his face into a more passive look and ultimately failing.

“We know he’s alive and safe. He has friends.” Tetsurou continues, running his fingers through Kenma’s hair. “He’s okay, Kenma. You found him.”

“Yeah,” Kenma says, rocking onto his toes and wrapping his arms around Tetsurou’s neck, hiding his smile against his skin. He presses a soft kiss there before a sudden thought slams into his mind. He pulls away, lips forming an ‘o’, “I have Kageyama’s--Shouyou’s platonic soulmate--contact information! Kageyama said he would pass it on to Shouyou when he returned back to their apartment. We’re going to be able to _talk_ to him, Tetsurou.”

Tetsurou laughs again, kissing Kenma until Kenma finds himself laughing too, their little bubble of happiness making Kenma’s skin warm.

He’s found Shouyou. After so long, after so much _searching_.

He found him.

“I love you,” Tetsurou says between their lips. Kenma smiles in return, pressing forward to seal their lips together.

He feels complete.

Is this what love feels like?

* * *

 

“Ooo, Kenma? What ‘cha smiling about?”

Kenma narrows his eyes a fraction, not processing what his classmate is saying. Smiling? Was he smiling?

“Thinkin’ about your soulmate? I bet you are. You’re usually so expressionless, I bet you they’d be pretty happy to make you smile like that.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks. His current feelings are only boredom--this class is so dull--but there is something faint in the back of his mind. A tiny kernel of happiness that _logically_ shouldn’t be there. It’s small but bright. Definitely too happy to be Tetsurou and _way_ too happy to be Kenma’s own emotions.

_Shouyou?_

“Dude, did you not even notice you were smiling?

Kenma scrunches his nose, unsure what to say. It’s not like he’s the sort of person to share that this is the first time he’s felt Shouyou’s emotions across the bond. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says coolly, turning back to face the front. “If I’m smiling, it’s because this stupid class is almost over and I have a new game to play.”

“What, no—oh. Oh yeah, we get out in like ten minutes. Huh, good call.”

* * *

 

 _From: [Unknown]_  
_To: Kenma_  
_!!! Tobio said this was ur cell ##!_  
_It’s Shouyou!!!!_

 

Kenma isn’t one to text, but the second he sees the name, his fingers are flying across the touch screen keyboard, body shaking in nervousness and excitement.

 

 _From: Kenma_  
_To: Shouyou_  
_It’s nice to finally meet you, Shouyou. I’ve been looking for you for years._  


_From: Shouyou_  
_To: Kenma_  
_Really????!!! I…that makes me really happy YOU HAVE NO IDEA! I_ cant _…I_ cant _feel u over the bonds, so I always thought…but I’m really happy you ran into tobio. He was really surprised. He said u seem weird tho lol_  


_From: Kenma_  
_To: Shouyou_  
_I stared at him while he was swimming._  


_From: Shouyou_  
_To: Kenma_  
_OMG W HATT LOLOLOL!!! HE MUST HAVE BEEN SOOOO EMBARRASSED LOL TOBIO WHAT A NERD HAHAHAHA_

 

Kenma doesn’t know how to respond, but he doesn’t have time to anyway, as his professor is moving onto a topic Kenma isn’t familiar with. Putting his phone on silent, Kenma refocuses himself on the lecture, fully aware of the pleased smile on his face.

* * *

 

“You can’t study if you keep texting him,” Tetsurou tells him one day as Kenma studies for a math test.

Attempts to study for a math test. Or maybe _avoids_ studying for a math test.

Kenma flushes red, but his fingers keep tapping against his phone, “Be quiet,” he grumbles, “He’s cute. It’s….he’s so….” Kenma makes a vague gesture with his free hand, unable to put his feelings into words.

Tetsurou just laughs at him as he picks himself off the couch and plucks the phone from Kenma’s fingers, “I know, I text him too you know. But you have a test, and he has a paper. School comes first. Our _lives_ come first.” Kenma makes a loud noise of protest, reaching up to grab at his phone. His soulmate just dangles it out of his reach, a grin on his face.

Stupid Tetsurou.

“Testu--”

“I know we found him, but Kenma we can’t slack off.” Tetsurou’s words interrupt Kenma’s whining.

A frown pulls at his lips and Kenma glares at his soulmate--who just stares right back at him.

He thinks about jumping up and taking his phone. Thinks about ignoring his homework, and just talking to Shouyou. He wants to make up for all the years he hated the freckled boy, wants to know what he went through. He still needs to apologize for not being there, for being the way he was. He needs to prove to Shouyou that he _cares_.

Kenma breaks the stare off with a sharp turn of his head and a huff. “Fine. Whatever, I got it.”

He’s being childish, but he _really_ doesn't want to study for this test.

Tetsurou with his superior intellect and dumb logic. Stupid law student with his stupid law stuff.

Tetsurou’s soft laughter follows him into the kitchen. Without his phone Kenma glances at his math study problems, feeling a headache press at his brain because of all the numbers.  
“What do you want for dinner?” Tetsurou calls from the kitchen. Kenma blinks away from the mess of , instinctively reaching for his phone.

“Do we have fish?”

“Salmon or cod?”

“Salmon.”

“Lemon or brown sugar?”

“Lemon.” Silence meets Kenma’s words, and he falls backward with a groan. “Lemon, please.”

“Good boy.”

Kenma wrinkles his nose at the words, rolling onto his side and making a point to not look at his math work.

“Sit up and get your math done, Kenma.”

Groaning again--louder this time to make sure Tetsurou heard how unhappy he was at this--Kenma sits up and stares at his math. He just needs it to catch on fire.

If x minus 5 the quantity squared over 3 minus y minus 2 quantity squared equals 1, what are the asymptotes?

What the actual hell was _this_ shit?

“Tetsurou,” Kenma calls out, fighting the urge to slam his head into the coffee table. Why was he even taking a math class? His major didn’t even deal with math.

“Let me season the salmon and preheat the oven, first. I’ll help you afterward.”

“I hate math.” is Kenma’s reply to that. A tempting thought crosses his mind to just rip the study sheet to shreds and never think about it again, but if he did that Tetsurou would give him a disappointed look. Kenma’s not sure which one is worse.

It’s only a few minutes later before Tetsurou returns, dropping Kenma’s phone in his lap as he settles next to him, “Shouyou texted you.”

“Jealous?” Kenma snorts as he unlocks his phone.

_3 new messages:_

_Shou…: I don’t like lab_ repeorts

_Shou…: Tetsurou said ur studying oops_

_Shou…: good luck kenma! u3u_

  
“I want to see him,” Kenma says, staring at Tetsurou, “I want to see him now.”

Tetsurou only laughs at him and kisses the tip of his nose, “When we all have a few days off, maybe we can arrange something, okay?” Kenma nods, grip tightening around his phone, “But first, studying.”

Kenma wants to cry. He hates math.

* * *

 

Kenma hums low as kisses are trailed down his neck, a small laugh bubbling from his lips when Tetsurou blows a raspberry against his shoulder.

“Do you think he can feel this? These emotions?” Kenma asks as his fingers tangle in Tetsurou’s hair, tugging at the strands until Tetsurou’s lips drag up to meet Kenma’s. “Do you think he can feel it and gets off on--oh.” His nails press into Tetsurou’s scalp, breath leaving him in a rush. “ _Fuck_.”

“Are you going to keep talking?” Tetsurou mumbles against Kenma’s collarbone, fingers splayed across his hips. “Or are you going to just wait and see afterward?”

Kenma says nothing in favor of pushing Tetsurou’s head back down, eyes slipping closed as Tetsurou sucks marks into his skin.

“I’m curious,” Kenma starts, smiling when he feels Tetsurou groan. “What will he look like when we’ve debauched him? What will he sound like?” Kenma lets his fingers slip from Tetsurou’s hair when his soulmate moves to stare up at him. “Tetsurou I want him.”

Tetsurou gives Kenma’s chin a soft kiss. “Soon, kitten. Soon.”

A whine falls from Kenma’s lips, half in protest because he wants Shouyou now and half because Tetsurou chooses that moment to drag his tongue along the underside of Kenma’s jaw. “Not soon enough,” Kenma huffs, laughing when Tetsurou's hands slide up his shirt and ghost across his chest. The action causes goosebumps to break out on Kenma’s skin, “He’s so cute I just want to see what he looks like when--”

“Stop talking and let me take care of you,” Tetsurou grumbles next to Kenma’s ear. Kenma arches his back and raises his hands to help Tetsurou remove his shirt, “He’ll feel it, I promise.”

Kenma lets his eyes close as rough fingers slide against his skin. As lips suck at his flesh and teeth paint his skin in hues of purple and red.

And as heat presses into him and words soothe the sting until pain melts into pleasure, Kenma can only hope that Shouyou feels all of this too.

* * *

 

 _From: Shouyou <3_  
_To: Tetsurou_  
i _want to b w/ u two nxt_ tiem _!!! tobio walked in on me w/ my hand down my pants :0_

 __  
From: Tetsurou  
_To: Shouyou <3_  
Lol _kenma will b pleased to hear_ tht _. He was_ askin _all sorts of ????? about if you could feel_ it to _. It was cute_

 __  
From: Shouyou <3  
_To: Teturou_  
_;( when can we meet up_ kuroo _????? :/ school is killing me, I just want to spend time w/ u guys_

 __  
From: Shouyou <3  
_To: Tetsurou_  
Kenmas _getting restless too haha. Spring break is almost here, u can come up here then. ;-)_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all!!! IM ALIVE! WEIRD RIGHT. im so sorry okay. 
> 
> not gonna lie this has been written sincce.........the last update. HA. i just......needed to look over it (and rewrite) and then hqbb happened. and I DIDNT HAVE A LAPTOP FOR LIKE 3 MONTHS so fuck that. 
> 
> i still have 2 jobs, and im looking to go back to school in the spring (woooo). i'll drop a job for that for sure, but u kno. u kno.....writing. but! my majors are creative writing and psych so i mean like ayyyy hopefully i'll write some more. 
> 
> edit: on an unrelated note i have a new back tattoo and got my wisdom teeth removed less than a week ago and i am eating chipotle and actually PULLLED THE STITCHING FROM ONE SIDE OF MY MOUTH #HELP it feels so weird
> 
> BUT ON THAT NOTE OF WRITING. i'm doing nano this year so, if i can get another chapter out before nov 1st i will. otherwise yall wont see me until xmas-time!! 
> 
> my url changed again (again). so u can find me @mutsukx on tumblr OR my writing blog which has all my writing shit @jwritesangst. HAPPY HOLIDAYS ALL!


	9. I've Never Lied, But This Is The Last Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re right. Clearly, me keeping the fact that I met Kenma over break is more important than the fact that I walked in on you covered in your own blood and barely breathing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> returns after 25 years. 
> 
> hey. so like happy new year?? its been a while. and fun fact most of this was DONE i just was....not finishing it? lmao i suck i kno. but i love this fic and i will finish it as best i can (and then.......i really like this idea so) 
> 
> anyways recently i went to chicago to see some friends and saw bts in concert and it was life changing. thats kinda why i dont write as fast now. kpop is a full time thing?   
> but i will try to finish this before the fall semester starts bc im taking 15 credits and i kinda already want to pre-die.

Shouyou throws open the door to Tobio’s bedroom, stomping through the mess until he could safely throw himself on top of his best friend. 

“Tobio!” he shouts, grunting as the  _ previously _ sleeping Tobio jerks awake and throws him off the bed. “Oh my god,  _ ow _ . I think I broke my back. Tobio how could you!” Shouyou whines from the ground. 

“What the fuck do you want? And why the  _ fuck _ are you waking me up at…” Shouyou watches his platonic soulmate glance at the clock. “Six in the evening? You know I work late shift tonight, what the hell, Shouyou.” 

_ Oops _ , he had totally forgotten about that, assuming Tobio to only be napping. Oh well, too late to apologize about it now. “I felt something!” he crows from the ground, grinning up as Tobio’s brows furrow together. 

“Like in your bed? Do I need to kill a bug?” Oh god, Tobio was  _ so cute _ when he wasn't grumpy after he first woke up. 

Shouyou wants to just pinch his cheeks and coo at him. 

He doesn't. He  _ does _ value his life (at the moment).

“No, no bugs. The bond, Tobio, the  _ bond _ .” He scrambles from his clothing covered spot on the floor and bounces back onto Tobio’s bed. “I felt  _ Kenma _ . I felt them! They’re there, they’re alive!”

Tobio scoffs, a hand dragging down his face. “Of course they’re alive, the ink would be white otherwise, idiot.” 

Shouyou pouts, flopping down on top his best friend and laughing when Tobio just squawks in annoyance. “You don’t understand, Tobio. I shouldn’t be this happy? It wasn’t really a good feeling they brought me. It was annoyed, maybe? And angry. I wanted to punch something, they were so angry, it was weird!” 

Tobio grunts under him and gently pushes Shouyou to the side. “Okay...can I go back to sleep? You’re wasting the four hours I have left before I have to get up for work.” 

Shouyou’s excitement withers as he nods, and moves to get off the bed. “Yeah, I guess. I’ll make you coffee before I go to bed, okay?” he says as he finds footing in the carnage of clothes and turns to leave

There’s a sigh--soft enough to miss it if Shouyou wasn't paying attention--before he’s being pulled back onto the bed. When his back hits the plush of the mattress, it’s Tobio’s face he stares up at, bags under his eyes and a scowl on his lips. 

“Sorry,” Tobio grumbles. “I’m tired and I don’t fucking understand why you’re so happy about this shit.” Shouyou opens his mouth to reply--more than willing to explain--but Tobio keeps talking. “You can blab about it when I wake up for classes tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah!” Lurching up, Shouyou narrowly misses hitting their heads together. He ignores the glare Tobio shoots him. “I can wait for that! Oh my  _ god _ , what if he does it again? That would be so cool!” 

Tobio only gives a tired smile and presses his lips to Shouyou’s cheek. “I’m happy you’re excited,” Shouyou hears the  _ but _ in the statement. “But get off my damn bed and let me  _ sleep _ .”

“Sure! Night-night, Tobio!”

“Night. Get out.”

* * *

Shouyou knew that this winter break was going to be the hardest part of the year for him. His mother had made a rule before he moved for college that he come home for the holidays, despite Tobio’s insistence that his family was more than happy to welcome Shouyou into their home. But Shouyou’s mother had not budged on the issues, and in the end, Shouyou relented to her wishes. It would only be for ten days. Ten days out of the year. Less than two weeks, out of fifty-two. 

But without Tobio, Shouyou has a feeling that these next ten days are going to pass slower than any of the previous 355 days before. It wasn't just his mom he had to deal with, Shouyou found out as he stamped his boots in his mother’s house. Natsu was coming home as well. 

His little sister. 

His little sister who walked in on him slicing into his own flesh.

Shouyou watched her grow up behind the haze of his depression. Watched the adoring gazes turn into worry, and finally settle on disgust and hatred.

And as soon as Natsu stepped foot into their mother’s house, a small suitcase in her grip and her eyes--their father’s eyes--landing on Shouyou’s from where he sat in the living room, he knew that these next ten days were going to be harder than his semesters at college. 

“Heard you tried to kill yourself,” Natsu says in lieu of a greeting.

Shouyou glances up from his phone to stare at her before shrugging a shoulder. “Heard you went against Mom’s wishes and dyed your hair black,” he says back calmly, tapping his nails on the dark screen of his phone. “You look like a ghost, Natsu.” 

Natsu huffs at him, pale fingers carding through her shoulder length black hair. “It’s the current trend,” she says as she toes off her shoes and hauls her suitcase over the step of the foyer. “You should know, Dad always said you liked feminine things.” 

Shouyou blinks twice before his brows furrow in disbelief. “As if fashion is inherently feminine,” he scoffs. “Maybe if your father got his head out of his ass for once, you wouldn’t be such a spoiled brat.” 

“Shouyou!” his mom shuffles out of the kitchen in that moment, drying her hands on her pants as she walks. “Don’t use that language in this house.” 

Natsu laughs at him. Shouyou ignores her in favor of texting Tobio. 

“And Natsu, I did not let you into this household so you could patronize your older brother. I have every right to send you back to Tokyo and your father’s empty apartment.” 

Shouyou almost snorts as Natsu’s laughter cuts off into a cough, her eyes wide. 

“But Mom--” 

“Apologize to your brother,” their mother demands of his sister, pushing her graying ginger hair out of her face. “Natsu, apologize.” 

“Sorry, Shouyou,” Natsu mumbles under their mother’s stern gaze. Shouyou shrugs in response, not willing to voice the fact that he doesn’t and will not ever accept any apology Natsu hands him. 

She was their father’s daughter, a fact that Natsu’s features never failed to remind Shouyou of. 

At the apology, their mom--seemingly happy with the exchange--disappears down the hallway. 

Shouyou’s phone barely has finished buzzing with a new text message before Natsu rounds on him. “I wish you had died,” she spits, brown eyes bright in anger. “Dad would have been happier.”

Shouyou stares at her a moment, letting the slap of the words burn into his skin. If the words had been spoken months earlier, he might have cried. If they had been spoken years before, Shouyou might not be standing here now. But he’s gotten stronger. Not by much--he knows his road to recovery is going to be a shaky one if he’s lucky--but stronger nonetheless. 

So it’s pleasing to see the shock on Natsu’s face when Shouyou only laughs at her, tapping the passcode into his phone without looking down. “Fun fact, Natsu,” Shouyou says sweetly, a small smile tilting his lips, “There isn’t a day that I don’t wish for the same thing.” 

Before Natsu can reply, their mom calls for her to bring her suitcase into the room she will be staying at, and Natsu vanishes without another sound. 

_ To: Shouyou _ __   
_ From: Tobio <3 _ _   
_ __ Ur gonna be just fine. It’s ten days. I’ll call u every night, okay?

* * *

Day Two doesn’t pass any easier. Though the day passes without any major issues, Natsu takes every opportunity to glare at him, making even the calmest of moments borderline unbearable.

Shouyou makes it his personal mission to keep a smile on his face for the entirety of the day, going as far as to help his mother with dinner. His only slip up is when Natsu smiles at him before asking their mother--innocence thick in her honey sweet voice--if it was okay for Shouyou to be handling knives  _ so soon _ after the Incident. 

It takes all of Shouyou’s willpower and then some, to not glare at his sister before turning and calming his fretting mother. 

And though it’s the only issue to note from the day, it doesn't stop him from calling Tobio the moment the bedroom door closes behind him. 

_ “Hey,” _ Tobio says in greeting, his voice warming Shouyou from head to toe. 

“Hi,” Shouyou says in reply, collapsing on his bed with a soft grunt “How’s home?” 

_ “Fine. Nothing new. Mom is the same as always,” _ A pause.  _ “How’s your mom? And Natsu?” _

“Same as always. Mom worries and Natsu,” Shouyou plops down on his bed with a grunt. “She hasn’t changed. Spitting image of Dad.” 

_ “Of her father,” _ Tobio corrects,  _ “and that man has no control over you.” _

Shouyou sniffs once, using his free hand to wipe the few tears that escaped his eyes. “Thanks, I needed that.”

_ “Anything for you, Shouyou. Anything.” _

* * *

Natsu doesn’t willingly talk to him until after dinner on Day Four.

Shouyou had been texting Tobio like crazy during their meal, hands shaking as each text message went unreplied. As soon as the meal had ended, Shouyou had all but bolted to his room, panic rising in his throat. 

_ To: Shouyou _ __   
_ From: Tobio <3 _ _   
_ __ We need to talk after break

His eyes scanned the message over and over and over again. Until the letters blurred together. Until his tears landed on his screen. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Shouyou jolts at the sound of his sister’s voice. He’s thrown back for a moment, imagining her from when she was only 3 years old, her gummy smile grinning up at Shouyou as if he was her whole world. 

Sometimes, he wonders where he went wrong as an older brother. He should have protected her more, should have pushed aside his own issues with their father to be a better son. Maybe then, his relationship with Natsu wouldn’t be so broken. 

“Nothing,” Shouyou hastily replies, using the back of his hand to wipe his tears. “It’s nothing, Natsu. I’m okay.” 

She scoffs at him, eyes rolling as she shoves her dark hair out of her face. “I didn’t ask if you were okay, idiot. I asked what was wrong. Mom is worried you’re going to do something stupid. Made me check up on you.” 

Shouyou’s heart withers at the comment. Right, their mom was probably worried. Natsu hated him, hated him from the moment she was old enough to understand that their parent's separation was his fault. Hated him from the day their father all but disowned him, placing all of the pressure to be a Model Child onto his younger sister. 

“I won’t do something stupid, I’m not...I’m going to be okay. Go back to texting your friends, or talking to Dad,” Shouyou waves her away. “I’m old enough to take care of myself, Natsu.” 

However, Natsu doesn’t move from her spot in the doorway. “Bullshit,” she snaps, eyes narrowed like their father’s. Shouyou shrinks back and Natsu immediately halts. “Shouyou,” she starts. 

“Leave,” He doesn’t want to see the look on her face. Doesn’t want to see the anger, the disappointment in her eyes. “Go away, Natsu.” he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

When he opens them again, Natsu is nowhere to be seen.

* * *

_ To: Shouyou _

_ From: Tobio <3 _ _   
_ _ We need to talk after break _

Shouyou taps out another reply, adding to the string of unread messages he has sent to Tobio.

_ To: Tobio <3 _ __   
_ From: Shouyou _ __   
_ Natsu confronted me today....she reminded me of dad and i shrank away. im such a coward tobio. _ _   
_ __ i wanna come home. i miss u

* * *

Day Five starts with no replies from Tobio. Shouyou goes down to breakfast with a fake smile, kissing his mother’s cheek as he mumbles good morning.

Natsu joins them a few minutes later, just as Shouyou finishes putting the dishes on the table. 

“You look like hell,” she comments off-handedly as she ties her hair back into a bun. “Did you have a nightmare?” 

Shouyou shrugs a shoulder as he stuffs a bite of egg in his mouth. “About you, so yeah I think it qualifies as a nightmare.” 

Natsu snorts into her miso soup and Shouyou ignores the unamused look from their mother. 

It's only after the dishes have been washed and dried that Natsu talks to him again. 

Shouyou isn't sure where their mother is, knowing she had been trying to keep Natsu busy enough with chores and errands and ensuring she did her homework before she was sent back to her dad’s. But for now, his sister was seated less than a couch cushion away from him. 

Staring. 

“It’s rude to stare,” Shouyou says lightly, playing with the edges of his phone. Tobio had yet to reply. 

“Tell me about mom and dad,” she replies. The words make Shouyou head snap up, a refusal on the tip of his tongue. “Tell me what it was like before me. Has Dad always been so disapproving of everything?” 

“No,” Shouyou slowly says, phone gripped tight in his hands. “He used to play with me a lot. He was a good father. Even when you came along, it wasn't all that bad. He just... I don’t know how he got into his head the idea of a perfect son, or when he started pushing it. Mom and I really loved him, even after it all.” 

“Did he ever hit you?” Natsu’s voice is soft. Shouyou spares her a glance out of the corner of his eye and sees her hands curled into fists. “Is that why you--” 

“Yes.” He’s so tired. Tired of jolting from contact, tired of the feeling of wanting to crawl out of his own skin. “He would get really mad. He never hit mom--that I can remember.” Shouyou heaves a sigh and scrubs a hand over his face. “He used to get mad at you too Natsu. You liked playing with my toy cars and would ask me questions about the action figures in my room.” 

“I remember Dad telling me that. He said that you used to come up with stories where your figures got married--even though they were two men.” 

“I did. You did too. We had fun. Dad didn’t...he didn't like it of course. Got mad at us and I took the blame.” Shouyou turns to meet Natsu’s gaze. “I took a lot of blame back then. Not always because of you. But it was easier for me to deal with it. Because I was your older brother. I should protect you.” 

“Oh.” 

The two of them fall into silence. 

“I’m sorry, you know,” Shouyou says after a time. “I didn’t want you to grow up between the two of them. I didn’t want you to...see me the way you have been. I’m not the best older brother, I’m sure of it.” 

“You’re not,” Natsu snorts, shoving wayward strands of hair out of her face. “But you tried. I think that’s all anyone can ask.” 

She doesn't apologize, at least not out loud--but when Shouyou shifts his position and lifts his arm, Natsu doesn't hesitate to tuck herself into the curve of Shouyou’s body. 

They fall asleep in the late morning light, soft smiles on their faces.

* * *

_ To: Shouyou _

_ From: Tobio <3 _ _   
_ _ I was w/ oikawa and iwaizumi-senpai. sorry oikawa thought it was a good idea to marathon aliens/predadors and i let my phone die. I hope ur okay. miss you.  _

_ To: Tobio <3 _ __   
_ From: Shouyou _ __   
_ I think so. Natsu apologized. I think. I’m not sure where we stand, but she stopped….being a brat? _ _   
_ __ 3 more days tobio. I miss u so much. Hows oikawa-senpai? an d iwaizumi-senpai?

_ To: Shouyou _ __   
_ From: Tobio <3 _ _   
_ __ glad natsu is coming around. I know u missed her. They r domestic as alwys. It was nice seeing them, it’s been a while since they moved to tokyo. Oikawa cant take care of plants. I thought about u when i saw it dying. 

_ To: Tobio <3 _ __   
_ From: Shouyou _ _   
_ __ Oh my god did u take it away from him? That poor plant. Maybe ill text him some articles on how to take care of them. :c gotta go now tobio, mom says hi.

* * *

Day Six passes without incident, with Shouyou’s mother hustling her two children out of the house for family bonding time. In the end, Shouyou has gotten three handfuls of snow down his jacket and Natsu’s hair is damp from when Shouyou shoved her into a pile of snow on the side of the road.

It’s not perfect, but it’s progress. 

Natsu still glares at him, still catches herself mid-insult. Shouyou still flinches when she gets too close to him, the memory their father hitting him a wound that never healed. 

Their mom doesn't notice. Or she does--Shouyou isn’t sure honestly. She smiles at them like always. Chastises them for being children, but never all that upset about it. She’s gentler with Shouyou then she is with Natsu, but by now both of them are used to it. 

His family is distracting. His mother's warm yet somehow empty smiles when he catches her eye. Natsu’s inner struggle with herself as she gets old. His father’s echoing words, years later. 

But it’s not as bad as Shouyou had expected it. There’s less hate, less anguish, then he predicted. It was hard--there was no Tobio to help him, to bring his mood up when it dipped horribly low. And yet, he was okay. 

He was okay. 

He could do this. Just maybe, he could do this.

* * *

The moment Shouyou walks into his shared apartment with Tobio, he’s pressed against the front door.

“Hi,” Shouyou giggles as Tobio presses against him, lips against Shouyou’s forehead. “I missed you too, Tobio.” 

There’s a silence that surrounds them, a desperation surrounding Tobio that Shouyou doesn't understand. It scares him. The way Tobio’s hands curl around his hips so tight Shouyou wonders if he’s going to snap in half. It’s the way Tobio’s breathe fans hot across his skin, ragged and harsh and not right.

“I love you,” Tobio says into the silence. It swallows the words whole, leaving the room devoid of all sound. “I love you so much.”

Shouyou lets his bag fall from his fingertips and  runs his hands through raven colored hair. “I love you too, babe,” he says, confusion evident in his tone. “Are you okay?” 

Tobio doesn't reply to him, moving his lips from Shouyou’s forehead to tuck his head into Shouyou’s shoulder. Shouyou feels his breath shudder and hitch and lets his fingers tangle into Tobio’s hair. 

“Tobio,” he presses, tugging gently at his best friend’s hair. “Let’s go to bed, okay? The doorknob is digging into my ribs and it hurts.” 

His words get Tobio to look at him, eyes wet with unshed tears. Shouyou says nothing about them, just removes his hands from Tobio’s hair to cup his face. 

“Shou...I have to--”

Shouyou cuts him off with a quick kiss on his lips. “Later. Carry me to bed.” 

There’s desperation in the air, and Shouyou doesn't understand it, not entirely. But he knows, some part of him knows that this will be the last time Tobio holds him this way. 

He doesn't understand it, logically speaking there is no evidence that Tobio and he will end. But his brain helpfully reminds him of the text message Tobio sent him before disappearing for almost two days. 

And he knows. 

This will be the last time. 

“Carry me, Tobio,” Shouyou says again, lips brushing against his soulmate’s. He feels the tears seep between Tobio’s cheeks and his fingertips. “One more time, please love me one last time.” 

Tobio’s eyes widen before he nods and presses a soft kiss against Shouyou’s lips. 

It takes no words between them as Tobio’s hands slide down to grip at the backs of Shouyou’s thighs. It takes no words as Shouyou wraps his arms around Tobio’s neck. A little laugh leaves Shouyou as he jumps up to wrap his legs around Tobio’s waist. “This is the last time, isn’t it Tobio?” 

From this position, secured by Tobio’s hands pressed against his ass, Shouyou can see the tears catch on his lashes before they slide down his cheeks. 

“Yeah,” Tobio tilts his head up a fraction to kiss at the underside of Shouyou’s jaw. “This is the last time.”

Shouyou doesn't remember the journey from the front door to Tobio’s bedroom. He doesn't remember being pressed against the cool sheets. All he can think about is every moment they shared before this. 

It’s barely been six months since their first kiss, full of desperation just like this. It’s barely been six months since Shouyou watched his best friend crumble in front of him. It feels like no time has passed. 

But Shouyou knew, in the back of his head, that this was always bound to happen. 

Tobio would always end up leaving him. Tobio was not his. Not like this. 

They were never supposed to happen like this. 

“Shouyou.” 

He feels cold hands cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing under his eyes. 

“Shou, open your eyes for me,” Tobio breath fans across his face. “Shouyou, please.” 

It hurts, he thinks as he forces his eyes to open. It hurts. Knowing this was the end of it all. 

But it doesn't stop him from smiling at Tobio’s tearstained face above him. It doesn't stop the wail that parts his lips as the two of them shudder together, broken and incomplete. 

It doesn't stop either of them from taking the words back. 

They were never supposed to happen like this. Shouyou was never meant to fall for Tobio like this. 

“I love you,” Shouyou whispers as Tobio places kisses down his neck. “I’ll always love you, Tobio.” 

Gasps fill the air as warm palms and cold fingertips push Shouyou’s shirt up until it bunches under his armpits. Shouyou attempts to muffle his cries by covering his mouth with his palm, but Tobio removes it soon after, fire in his eyes. 

“Let me hear you,” he says, thumb pressing down on Shouyou’s swollen bottom lip. “Let me hear you, Shouyou. One more time. Let me have this.” 

Shouyou nods, lip trembling as his chest heaves. Sobs fill the air, coupled with broken gasps and soft moans. 

He cries as Tobio kisses down his chest. As teeth nip into his skin. As hickeys bloom along the path Tobio trails. Shouyou’s fingers find themselves tangled in black locks of hair, alternating between pressing Tobio closer and trying to pull him away. 

He doesn't want this to be the last time. He doesn't want to wake up without Tobio kissing him good morning. He doesn't want to live in a life that doesn't let Tobio curl up with him after a hard day of classes. 

Shouyou remembers every press of skin they have shared. Every smile in their kisses, every hitch of breath as they rock together. He remembers the day Tobio hissed in his ear as they came in the library. He remembers Tobio counting the sparse amount of freckles on his back when Shouyou had overheated in the shower and Tobio had to carry him out. 

He remembers the time Tobio got cum in his eye, the pained laughter that bubbled from Shouyou’s lips as the reality of the situation dawned on him. 

Shouyou can remember the first time Tobio took him apart from the inside, the hot stretch, the soft words against his abdomen. How Tobio had praised him as he shook apart. 

He doesn't want this to be the last time. He wants Tobio to be his forever. He wants to cling close to the single constant in his life, to never let him stray from Shouyou side. 

He knows they were never meant to happen. He knows Fate had other plans in store for him. 

But in this moment--as Tobio is tugging down Shouyou’s pants with such care that Shouyou can’t even think to utter a word to make him hurry--Shouyou wants to defy Fate. Wants Tobio to be his one and only. 

It’s in moments like these, air hot between them, that Shouyou forgets the names marked forever into his skin. 

In the end, Shouyou can’t let himself enjoy their last moments. In the end, he pushes Tobio off him. In the end, they never make it farther than the slow mapping of the bodies they had grown familiar with. 

In the end, Shouyou can only tuck his face into Tobio’s chest as he takes in the last moments of being held so reverently. 

“I’ll always love you,” Tobio whispers against Shouyou’s temple. The tears have long stopped, but Shouyou can’t bring himself to move away from his best friend. His first love. His first  _ everything _ . “I will never stop loving you.” 

“Then  _ why _ ,” he hiccups, not able to lift his head from Tobio’s chest. “Why are you leaving me, why can’t I be happy.” 

And to that, Tobio has no response.

Shouyou falls asleep to the rhythmic sound of Tobio’s breaths, to the constant weight against his hip.

He falls asleep, hoping that this was a dream.

* * *

He wakes up knowing it wasn't.

He wakes up with his legs tangled between Tobio’s. Wakes up feeling warm, feeling safe. 

A heavy arm is draped side, fingers brushing Shouyou’s spine. 

Shouyou wakes up feeling the exhaustion in his bones. Moments later tears spring to his eyes. 

He doesn't know if this will be the last time Tobio holds him like this. 

Doesn’t know where they will go from here. 

His face is still tucked into Tobio’s chest and unable to stop himself, Shouyou places a soft kiss to the center of Tobio’s sternum. 

“I’m awake,” a rough voice mumbles into the quiet, shattering the silence.

Shouyou tenses for a moment before pressing another kiss to the same spot. “Okay,” he says equally as soft. “Good morning, Tobio.” 

For a second, Shouyou thinks that Tobio is going to laugh. To smile at him like he always does when they would wake up like this. For a second, Shouyou thinks that maybe the words will be taken back, words like  _ last time _ . 

He knows they won’t. 

He hopes anyway. 

Instead of pressing him closer, instead of indulging Shouyou one more time, Tobio runs the hand that was pressed against his back to Shouyou’s hips and gently moves him away. 

“Tobio,” Shouyou whines. It’s too early for this. Too early to deal with the rejection. He’s not ready, he needs more time. He needs Tobio as his lifeline, needs his touch like he needs the oxygen to breath. “Please, just one more morning.” 

There’s a silence that follows, a pause in Tobio’s movements. It’s enough for Shouyou to tilt his head up and kiss the corner of his soulmate’s mouth before shifting up to meet Tobio’s stare. 

“I,” Tobio starts, hand tightening on Shouyou’s hip. It hurts for a second before Tobio releases him. “I can’t,” he finishes. “I’m sorry, Shouyou.” 

He understands--on some level--but it still tears open the wound of being  _ alone _ , tears filling his vision. “Why?” he begs, voice wavering. “Why can’t you just love me.” 

At that Tobio leans down to close the space between them, pressing his lips softly to Shouyou’s. “I found him,” he breathes against Shouyou’s mouth, moving away when Shouyou tries to kiss him again. 

“What? Found who?” Shouyou doesn't understand. He watches as Tobio collapses back onto the bed, hand over his eyes. “Tobio, answer me. Who did you find? Why are you being so secretive about this?” 

He scrambles to sit on Tobio’s chest, anger and guilt and sorrow sitting in his throat as he forces himself to speak. “Tobio, who?” he demands, prying Tobio’s hand off his face.

He stares at Tobio, and Tobio stares back. Silence settles around them as Shouyou watches various expressions flit across his best friend’s face before it settles on soft resignation. 

The word spoken is so soft, that had Shouyou not been as close as he was, there was a possibility he wouldn’t have heard it. The word was spoken so quietly, that Shouyou was immediately thankful that he watched Tobio’s own lips form something that had never passed his lips before. 

“Kenma.”

Time freezes. The world freezes in that exact moment. Shouyou’s fingers grip hard around Tobio’s wrist, thighs tense on either side of Tobio’s chest. Shouyou isn’t positive, but if he were to glance at the dust motes that always shimmered in the morning light, he thinks those would be frozen as well. 

“You found,” Shouyou says, lips fighting every word he spoke. “You found Kenma.” 

Tobio nods. 

His hand feels hot as if the names forever branded into his skin know exactly what Shouyou is trying to shove away. 

A part of him wants to weep with joy. After 21 years, there is contact with his soulmate. 

But a part of him wishes Kenma had never been found. A part of him wants his relationship with Tobio to never change. 

“He,” Tobio starts before he looks away from Shouyou’s face, tongue licking at his lips. “He seems nice. I guess.” 

The world, frozen in time, shudders and resumes. 

“How?” Shouyou asks, fingers tightening around Tobio’s wrist. “How did you find him?” 

Tobio snorts at that, eyes closing for a brief second before reopening and focusing back on Shouyou. “At the gym, shockingly enough.” Before Shouyou can ask another question, Tobio pulls his hand from Shouyou’s grasp. “I want coffee before you ask me about anything else, okay? I promise I’ll answer everything I can, but let me fucking wake up.” 

Shouyou nods, sitting on Tobio’s chest for a moment longer before he realizes he has to  _ move _ before Tobio can get up. “Oh, sorry,” he laughs, moving to get off his best friend’s chest. 

He follows Tobio to the kitchen, stepping on his heel once before Tobio orders him to sit at the bar while he makes coffee.

“So. The gym.” Shouyou says, fingers tapping against the bartop. 

Tobio grunts in reply. 

“Why didn’t you tell me when you met him? I thought,” Shouyou kicks his legs under the stool. “I thought we didn't keep secrets. And that’s a pretty big secret, Tobio.” 

“We can call it even,” his best friends says. “Me hiding this from you and you almost dying.” 

“That’s not the same thing.” 

Tobio cradles a mug of coffee in his hands, dark eyes staring at Shouyou. “You’re right. Clearly, me keeping the fact that I met Kenma over break is more important than the fact that I walked in on you covered in your own blood and barely breathing.” 

Shouyou breaks their eye contact and looks down to see the raise scars along his arm. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. What do you want to know about Kenma?”

* * *

_ To: Kenma _

_ From: Shouyou _ __   
_!!! Tobio said this was ur cell ##! _ _   
_ __ It’s Shouyou!!!!

“Is he going to even reply to me?” Shouyou asks, only to break off in a scream when his phone sounds in his hand.

_ From: Kenma _ __   
_ To: Shouyou _ _   
_ __ It’s nice to finally meet you, Shouyou. I’ve been looking for you for years

“I told you,” Tobio says from his spot under Shouyou. “Can you get off me now?”

“No can do, Tobio,” Shouyou says as his fingers tap against his phone. “I’m talking to Kenma.” 

_ To: Kenma _ __   
_ From: Shouyou _ _   
_ __ Really????!!! I...that makes me really happy YOU HAVE NO IDEA! I cant...i cant feel you over the bonds so i always thought...but I’m really happy you ran into tobio. He was really surprised. He said u seem weird tho lol

“I said he seemed nice. Why are you putting words in my mouth?”

“‘He seems nice’ in Tobio language means you think he’s weird, so like. Your opinion doesn’t matter in this context. I’m your best friend, I know all.” 

“If you know all, then get the fuck off me before I take your phone and smash it.”

“In Tobio language that means you love me.”  

_ From: Kenma _ __   
_ To: Shouyou _ _   
_ __ I stared at him while he was swimming.

_ To: Kenma _ __   
_ From: Shouyou _ _   
_ __ OMG W HATT LOLOLOL!! HE MUST HAVE BEEN SOOOO EMBARRASSED LOL TOBIO WHAT A NERD HAHAHAHA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when will i update next. no one knows. i sure as hell do not. 
> 
> also im in a creative writing class to be a better writer so warning that my style might change? we shall see lmao.


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